


Reveal

by pink_ink



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Aftercare, Alpha!Ian, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Body Worship, F/F, Gay Sex, Ian's friendship with elizabeth is very important!, Knotting, Lesbian Sex, Light Bondage, Lots of Original Characters - Freeform, M/M, No mpreg, Omega!Mickey, Pack Bonding, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, STIs do not exist, Slow Burn, Spanking, a bit sci-fi right?, all the sex, because no one gets pregnant, because zero mpreg happens, brief mentions of Ian having sex with other guys, f/f alpha/omega sex, government control, mention of rape's existence as a concept, mentions of self harm, nothing at all graphic, praise kink kinda, scars from cutting, sketchy government, therefore no protection with f/f and m/m sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2018-08-19 14:14:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 133,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8211442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pink_ink/pseuds/pink_ink
Summary: The government and scientific advancement have introduced medical treatments for Alphas and omegas. Life is supposed to be better like this. It's not that simple.





	1. Underground

**Author's Note:**

> This is way new to me. I've never written these dynamics, but I've been intrigued. If you know things about Alpha/Omega fics, you'll understand this. If you haven't read Alpha/Omega, I hope you don't get totally lost. More will be revealed in the next chapter.

No one knows how long it took the CDC to perfect the Alpha/omega treatments. Some believed it why the center was founded in the first place. Others believed the treatments were available for 100 years or more, but the government delayed availability. It was no secret that strong Alphas were personally selected for government jobs, for the military, for special interest groups. They had a lot to lose by weakening the Alpha traits. 

But they did. They weakened them. They weakened everyone. One spring morning almost 25 years ago, a worldwide press conference informed the people that a flood of Alpha/omega medications had become available. Pills. Inhalers. Injections. Eyedrops. Generic versions, even, so they weren’t expensive. Accessible to everyone, even at the free clinic. 

This was not a disease. Alphas. omegas. They were not diseased. That was what everyone kept saying. The CDC, even though they had “disease control” in their acronym. Being an Alpha or omega wasn’t a disease. They repeated it over and over. The scientists. Department of Health organizations worldwide. This isn’t a _disease_ they kept repeating. It is certainly is a matter of public health and safety, sure. But it’s not a disease. But if it were, they said, this was as close to a cure as they could get.

They made special hospitals. A/B/O hospitals were built from scratch. Existing hospitals, even shut-down hospitals, could not be re-used as A/B/O hospitals. They were constructed behind large gates lined with sheets of plastic, so the building wasn’t visible from the street. Flyover (with the exception of military helicopters) was strictly forbidden. The hospitals were built quickly. They had to be. They had a lot of work to do. 

When the first A/B/O hospital was opened in the US, there was a ribbon cutting ceremony attended by the President. Later, the TV talking heads debated his sincerity. The mandatory treatments were outside of his control, even from his powerful seat. He was left without power in more ways than one. 

_But did you see? Did you see what he did?_ Yes, the media all said. Yes, of course we saw. How tightly he clenched his fist around the ceremonial scissors. His twisted smile, the way his teeth slipped out as if they were growing longer. They kept talking about his eyes. How they looked like there were about to shift. A rage response. _He’s an Alpha, after all,_ they said. _And we all know how unpredictable Alphas can be._

*  
The eyes. 

Alphas had the ability to dilate their eyes. Once fully dilated, they had limited control over it. The stronger the Alpha, the more control, but even then it was shaky at best. Sometimes they would dilate slightly, or halfway, as if giving a warning. Mostly black, with a glowing ring of gold around the edge. Sexual response, but sometimes something different. Something even more dangerous. With the new treatments, some Alphas use eye drops every day to prevent it. Both can happen often and quickly, especially to young Alphas. It didn’t happen all the time, but the times when it did, there was no pretending to be anything or anyone else. It’s dangerous. Everyone knows it’s dangerous. 

It almost always happened to an Alpha when they experienced their Reveal. Almost always with the gold edge. 

Revealing happens at different ages, - Betas Revealed around 15, omegas and Alphas by 17 - but the pattern of Reveal was all the same. The person went to bed one night, just like any other night. The difference was that their body would fall into a deep, deep sleep. So deep there were no dreams, no movement, strange breath patterns. They could not be woken up during the night or early morning. Nothing. Fire alarms, bladders, someone shaking them. They would open their eyes and know. And nothing would be the same after that. The day of Reveal (it was always the same day. Something about public safety) the person went to the local A/B/O hospital, and returned with a pharmacy bag and a thick book about their status and what it means. Some people said they had a follow up appointment. To be on the safe side. Just in case. 

Ian didn’t know what happened during Reveal. He didn’t know what Revealed people had to do, or take, or promise. It was shrouded in secrecy. All of it. He saw Lip’s book, once. Just the cover, bent back. The spine wrinkled with lines from reading and re-reading. Lip caught him looking and quickly scooped it up before Ian could reach for it. _Stay out of it,_ he said. Not unkindly, but enough of an Alpha command that Ian couldn’t help but obey. 

*

Ian’s Reveal happens one sunny fall morning. 

He wakes up gasping, shooting straight up in his bed with a start, dick hard, nostrils flaring. He shakes his head. He can feel it. Smell it. Almost taste it. Something.

He jumps out of bed and throws open the bedroom door so hard a hinge comes loose. He stares at himself in the bathroom mirror. He immediately pulls back, shocked at his own reflection. His eyes. Black with a golden ring around the edge. He watches his nostrils flare wide and then twitch. He spins around, feet flying down the stairs. The smell is stronger. Deeper. Sweeter, even. 

As soon as he hits the floor, he spins around fast again. He follows the scent through the living room and into the kitchen. Where is it? Where is it? 

Who is it? 

The door. The door. He breathes hard, a groan as he throws the door open. Hoping. Part of him, the part that was beginning to growl, expects him to be there. 

Him. 

Ian has always known he was gay. He’s even had sex before. He knows who he is. But this is different. All of a sudden, his brain falls away and his body pushes to the front.

But on the back stoop, the smell is almost gone. He tries to follow it down the stairs, tracing steps in the yard, looking for a direction, frantic. 

“Ian,” Lip says. 

He turns fast, startled. “I-” 

Lip nods. “I know,” he says. “I know. You’re gonna be okay.” 

Ian swallows hard. He can feel the tears in his eyes. Are they from when he woke up, searching and eager and strong enough to pull a door off the hinge? Are they from realizing that this part of him, the part of him that wants and wants to be wanted, is truly this, after all? A blip in his biology? So overwhelmed with the scent of an omega that he feels almost like an animal? Even a predator? 

Ian clears his throat, opens and closes his mouth. “Is it always like this?” 

Lip lites a cigarette. “Kinda. Won’t get as intense when you get on meds. But yeah, sometimes.”

Ian wipes at his forehead. “Fuck.” He steps further into the yard, head turning, still searching. 

“He’s gone,” Lip says, blowing the smoke out.. 

Ian hesitates. “Lip,” he said. “I’m...I’m–” 

“Gay,” Lip says, crossing over, offering him the cigarette. “I know.” 

Ian takes a deep drag. He can almost feel his eyes shifting back to normal. His breathing begins to slow, and the stern stretching of his limbs and grabbing of his hands begins to relax. He breathes deeply. In through his nose, out through his mouth.

“There you go,” Lip says. “Breathe. Just let it go.” 

“It was so–” Ian begins. “I...I didn’t like that. I don’t wanna be–”

“An Alpha?” 

He nods. “It hurts.” 

Lip takes the cigarette back. “It hurts everybody,” he said. “We all hurt.” 

“All the Alphas?” 

“All the everybody,” he said. “It’s hard for us, but it’s gotta be hard on the omegas. They have to go through heat.” 

Ian squints. “But I thought-” he begins. “I thought they were on neutralizers and heat suppressants and all that stuff.” 

“Yeah,” Lip says. “It’s true. They are. But they still have a heat cycle. But it's milder. Doesn’t get in the way. They don’t actually go through a full heat anymore if the meds are right. Full heat’s hard for them. Doctors say it hurts. But.”

“But what?” 

“You can still smell it, a little bit. Omega. Not all of them. Just the ones your body, you know, wants?” 

“Smell what?” 

Lip huffs a little laugh. “The smell that got you all fired up and horny five minutes ago. Or did you forget stomping through the kitchen with a raging hard on?” 

Ian feels a blush. “I didn’t have–” 

Lip laughs around his cigarette. “Dude, I’m surprised there isn’t a hole in those sweatpants.” 

“Who was it?” Ian asks. “That was here? That, you know. Got me, you know. Feeling how I did? Like–” 

“Like an Alpha?” 

Ian nods. 

Lip smirks.”Won’t even believe it, man. I don’t even know why he came in at first. Lookin’ for Frank, I guess. Owes his dad money. He just walked through the house, straight line, barely stopped to take a breath before he went out the back door. Can’t believe it was enough to wake you up out of Reveal sleep.” 

Ian shakes his head. He feels like he’s trembling. “Who?” He swallows. “Lip, just tell me. Who–”

“Mickey Milkovich,” Lip says. “Never would have guessed him to be an omega. He must be on some serious shit if no one knows.”

Ian shakes his head. “But I could,” he swallows. “But I could smell him. I still smell him.” He breathes in hard, eyes rushing around the yard. “I just can’t figure out where he went.” 

Lip doesn’t say anything for a long time. “Look,” he says, finally. “We can’t help who we zero in on. It’s biology, remember? And no matter what kind of shit all those doctors and scientists say about us, we’re not dangerous.” 

“But I thought–” 

“They’re wrong,” Lip says. “They just don’t know it yet. It’s just times like this. When it gets harder to hide how we feel. It’s not just us. It’s omegas, too. We’re all supposed to pretend that this is better. It’s not better. But it’s the law, now. We don’t have a choice.” 

“But I thought,” Ian says. “I thought it was supposed to be better? Better than before?” 

“Before,” Lip mutters. He shakes his head. “It is,” he says. “I guess. Not as much fighting between Alphas at least. And omegas don’t have to hide during a heat since they don’t go through a full heat. In a lot of ways, it’s good. But it’s _too_ good. But that’s what the government wants. Us to be caged up until they get a vaccine approved. Scientific _advancement._ ." His voice is sarcastic. Harsh. 

“I thought it wasn’t a disease?” 

“Things are changing, now.” Lip speaks through an inhale. “More and more Betas are being born all the time. Soon everyone will be Betas and this will all be over. That’s what they think, anyway.” 

Ian can feel the confusion in his face. “What? How?” 

He shrugs. 

Ian breathes in and out again. “How come I don’t know any omegas?” 

“You do,” Lip says. “You just didn’t smell them before. You won’t be able to smell most of them, but you’ll be able to tell people apart that you had your Reveal. But with the drugs it’ll dull it so the attracting isn't as strong with most of them. I mean, you still will feel attraction. And you’re still gonna have sex with Betas, maybe even omegas. But it’s not the same as it was. It’s not like Alphas and Omegas used to be attracted to each other. That was some hardcore shit. But now that doesn’t happen, can’t happen. Not with everyone on all the meds.That's what they say, anyway. ” 

He nods, but he isn’t sure what Lip is talking about. He’ll wait. He’ll learn. “But what about Mickey? What about the drugs they’ll give me? Will that. Will that go away? What I felt for him?” 

Lip shakes his head. “I have no idea.”

Ian looks around the yard and sighs. “I don’t understand this.” 

“Yeah,” Lip says. “I know. But listen, you gotta watch it. Be careful. If anyone gets ahold of you chasing after Mickey, someone is going to figure it out. Alphas are supposed to help protect Omegas, not out them. If you still can feel him like that, you would be driven to protect him. Even if he doesn’t want you, you’d still feel like you have to protect him. You could get fucked up and possessive. And that can attract too much attention. Do you get that? You gotta play this cool.” 

“Play what cool?” 

“The things Alphas gotta play cool, Ian! Jesus!” 

Ian is about to ask another question. Ask how and why. Ask when should he try and see Mickey again, just to see, smell, know for sure. But the words won’t come out. 

Lip grinds his cigarette out with his boot. “Go take a shower,” he says. “Gotta get you to the A/B/O hospital.” 

*

Ian tried to ask questions in the car. What do they do? Does anything hurt? But Lip won’t answer. He just keeps his eyes on the road. He doesn’t even smoke. That last part is what worries him the most. 

Lip drops him off at the front door. “I can’t go in,” he says. “You’re supposed to go in by yourself. They’ll take it from there. I’ll pick you up when you’re done.” 

“How will you know when I’m done?” Ian feels anxious, then. “You said I couldn’t bring my phone.” 

“I know,” Lip says. “I’ll be here.” 

The car door shuts. Lip drives away. Ian takes a breath, and the automatic doors slide open. He steps into a large foyer. There is a guy in camo standing by the door, arms behind his back, staring straight ahead. For a moment, Ian thinks he will speak, but he doesn’t. 

There are three identical hallways - dark wood floors, soft white walls, shooting off in three directions. He doesn’t see anything else. Nothing else in any direction. Just the three hallways, three doors, metal letters. To the left, the red door marked with an black iron A. The center, a purple door with a silver B. To the right, a blue door with a little brass O. 

Ian takes a deep breath as he heads to the left. He watches his hand reach out for the black doorknob. He twists it, but nothing happens. He tries again. Locked. Suddenly he hears a buzz, and when he tries the door again it opens. The door is heavy. Much heavier than he anticipated. He steps immediately into a clear hallway which takes him into a larger room. Everything is clear. He doesn’t know if the walls are plastic or glass, but when his hand reaches to touch them, he hears a voice say “Hands to your sides, please.” He looks around for the source of the voice, but all he can see is a black speaker in the corner of the room. 

“Hello?” He turns around slowly. He swallows.

“Age?” 

“Almost 17? Next month?” 

Name? 

“Um, Ian. Ian Gallagher?” 

“Reval date?” 

“Um,” he stammers. “This - this morning?” 

“The date.”

Ian hesitates. “September...14th?”

“Symptoms?” 

Ian glances around. There must be a camera, right? Right? “I, uh, my eyes shifted, and–” 

“Describe.”

“Black,” he says quickly. “With the gold?” 

“And?” 

“I pulled the,” he isn’t sure if he’s breathing. “I pulled my door off the hinge?” 

There is a pause. “Sexual response?” 

“I–” he turns around, and that’s when he sees it, just above the doorframe. A small camera, no bigger than this thumb. “Um, I got hard?” 

“An erection.” 

“Yeah,” he stammers. 

“Was there an omega in the vicinity at time of Reveal?” 

“I think so?” 

The speaker clicks. “You think so or know so?” 

Sweat. “My brother said,” he begins. “Says that just before I got up, someone from the neighborhood came in. And I woke up and came downstairs to look for...them.” 

“Female omega?” 

“No,” he says. “A...male omega? I think? I didn’t know he’s–I mean. He’s from the neighborhood.” 

He hears what sounds like a click from the speaker, and it’s very quiet. There is a long pause. He turns back around to face the speaker as it crackles again.

He reaches his hand up to wipe sweat off his brow. 

“Hands at your sides please!” The voice is sharp, commanding. Alpha. An Alpha is watching him, talking to him.

“I’m sorry,” Ian stammers. “I won’t...I’ll try not to.” 

“Step against the wall, Alpha. In front of the height line. Stay still.” 

Ian has to look around to find the wall, the dark white stripe by what looks like a door. He plants his feet and keeps his head forward. His eyes dart to the side and he sees another camera. Bigger, this time. 

“Someone will be with you shortly,” the voice says. “Stay absolutely still.” It is a command. An Alpha command, the kind that leads to nearly automatic compliance. He’s never heard a voice this strong, like this. 

He’s not sure how long it is. He stares straight ahead, almost afraid to breathe. He’s about to start counting in his head when he hears a beep to his right and what sounds like another swish of an automatic door. He fights the urge to look over until he hears a woman say, “Hello Ian. Welcome. Come with me.” 

He turns, and there is a tall woman with hair so blond it is nearly white, pulled away from her face in a complicated-looking braid. Young. Probably not much older than he is. She is wearing red scrubs and holds a clipboard. “Hi,” he says. 

She smiles. He is so relieved to find it warm and comforting. Finally. Something comforting. “Hello,” she says. “Let’s get you taken care of, hmm?” 

Ian feels himself nodding. 

“Right this way,” she says, They follow the clear hallway around the corner. She is wearing black boots with thick heels. There is a thunk-thunk as she walks. “It’s just here,” she says as they turn. There is a sudden shock of color as he is thrust into a hallway with black walls. No windows, no doors. If there are emergency doors, he doesn’t see them. They make a right when the hallway ends, and make their way down yet another black hallway, but this one has the largest elevator doors he’s ever seen at the end of it. Four guards surround it, two holding guns. 

“Tranquilizers,” she says quietly. “Just in case.” 

Ian blinks fast. “In case what?” She doesn’t answer. “In case what?” 

She slips a key in the lock on the outside of the elevator and pushes a button when she turns it. The doors open with a quiet sound. It’s all metal. Every bit of it except one small panel. “Go on,” she says, waiting for him to step in first. He heads to the back and waits for her. He is hit with a stomach-rolling fear that she’ll make him go wherever he is going to on his own. But the door remains open. She touches something in her ear and says “Compliant. Descending.” She steps into the elevator. He is about to ask a question when she reaches for her ankle, slowly slipping a small gun out from beneath her scrubs. Some sort of hidden holster. She holds it by her side. “More tranqs,” she says. “Nothing personal. Protocol.” 

Ian nods, as if he understands. As if this wasn’t the strangest, more terrifying thing. He blinks his eyes fast.

She reaches over and punches in a code on a special panel, and slides her whole hand against a screen. A light moves over her hand, scanning it. The elevator begins to move.

It is impossible to tell how long the descent is. It feels like he goes down and down and down. The elevator moves so smoothly it could be two floors or it could be twenty. He opens up his mouth to ask a question, but then the doors slide open. 

The thing he notices first is the quiet. 

It’s the quiet. There is a small soft bench bolted to the floor to the left. The blonde woman sits and carefully and quietly takes off her boots. She’s barefoot, and Ian is about to ask what she is doing when two men walk toward him. They are tall and broad shouldered and wearing red scrubs, too. There is another man, just as tall and broad, with a white coat over his scrubs. A doctor. He’s the doctor. 

“Welcome,” the doctor says, and Ian instantly recognizes his voice from the speaker. He turns to face Ian. “How are you feeling?” 

Ian looks around. “Um,” he says. “What’s going on? I don’t understand.” 

The doctor nods. “There’s nothing to understand yet. We’ll just take it step by step, okay?” He gestures to a table and chair. Both are bolted to the floor. There is a pen on a chain and a stack of papers. “Have a seat. We’ll start with the easy part.”

The easy part is a pile of forms, asking everything from basic questions like name and date of birth to lengthy questions about his sexuality. He had already been assigned a pile of papers assuming he is gay. There is an additional packet if he identifies otherwise, but he leaves it alone. He is startled to find he is embarrassed and feels exposed by the depth of the questions. Describe his first sexual encounter in detail. Favorite positions and ones he’d like to try. Estimated time to orgasm. Favorite way to orgasm. Approximate amount of semen. Does he spit or swallow? What does ejaculate taste like to him? Has he had a partner with particularly palatable ejaculate? What did it taste like? What were the circumstances? Please be specific. Age of partners? Please list. What sexually attracted him to potential partners? Please list in order of importance. It goes on, and on, and on. 

By the time he lets the pen fall back against the table, it’s at least an hour and a half later. He wouldn’t know, of course, because there is no clock. 

The blonde woman takes his papers, all his forms, from the desk. She begins to page through them, and Ian feels his cheeks flush with embarrassment. She opens her mouth. Her voice is still kind. “I just need you to check these boxes,” she says. “Check the applicable.” 

Her fingernail is painted black. It taps on the paper. Masturbation. All sorts of questions. He skipped the page. He checks boxes quickly and pushes the paper away. 

“Thank you, Ian.” She smiles, a genuine smile. “And then just sign and date here in the box. Right there. Good. Now I’ll sign it too.” She scoops them up. “Next I’ll stamp these and make copies. You’re almost done with this part. You’re doing great.” 

“Thank you,” Ian says, because he doesn’t know what to say. He can hear his voice, quiet. 

The doctor gestures at his chair. “You may stand. Slowly.” 

Ian wipes his hands on his pants. Sweat. More sweat. He slowly rises to his feet. 

“We are going to begin the second portion of your examination and evaluation. Once we begin, it will be conducted in relative silence. Before treatment, some Alphas can be volatile.” He gestures to more guards, more tranquilizer guns. “They will accompany us into the other room,” he says. The guards slip on either side of him. The doctor slides a card against a panel and the door opens. They step inside. The male nurses, the guards, the doctor, the blonde woman. Ian. 

The blonde comes over with the clipboard. “He will go through the examination with you now, step by step. As you hear each portion, please initial here.” She taps the line with her black fingernail again. “This is your consent form. You may revoke your consent at any time. However, if you revoke your consent, you will be admitted to the hospital for a few days to make sure you are placed on the right medications. It isn’t a threat. Please understand it’s in your best interest. We can’t let you walk out the door if we don’t know what you are capable of. It’s a matter of your safety and the safety of others.” 

“What I’m capable of?” 

“It’s just protocol,” she says. “You’ll be just fine.” 

“First things first. Take off your shoes,” the doctor says. “ _Slowly._ ” Ian complies, trying to keep his balance and take them off at the same time. 

“Please stand against this wall,” the doctor says. “That’s it. Right against the wall, heels touching. We are going to take measurements and photographs. Do you have a short sleeve shirt underneath?" 

Ian looks down at his hoodie and nods. 

Good. Please take that jacket off. Your shirt is nicely fitted. You may leave your shirt on. You do not need to take off your pants."

Ian takes off his hoodie (slowly, slowly) and passes it to the blonde. She gives him a little nod. 

We’re going to record your height and take close-up photos, direct, both profiles, and your back. When we tell you to, you will step away from the wall and put your arms out, forming a T. We will measure your arms and arm span and take photos. Then you may put your arms down and we will measure and take photos of your shoulders, biceps, forearms, and hands. We will not photograph, touch or measure your penis, scrotum or bottom. I promise you that.” 

It is like he heard his thoughts. And who knows, maybe he did. He doesn’t understand what Alphas know. 

The blonde holds out a pen, and Ian takes it. ICG ICG ICG ICG ICG.

“Great,” the doctor says. “Let’s get started.” 

He was right. It is quiet. Methodical. Precise. The pen scratches on the paper, and the measuring tape feel cool and slippery against his skin. The camera flash hurts his eyes, and he sees spots every time he tries to look around the room. 

“Almost done,” she says quietly. "Almost there.

Ian bites his lip as she makes a note on the clipboard.“ Why do you guys need to know all this stuff?” 

She doesn’t respond. Not at first. “We can talk about that later.” 

“Okay Ian,” the doctor says, and his name sounds strange. “This is the portion of the evaluation that can feel invasive or a violation of privacy. We completely understand. But I promise it is important. This is very important for both your safety and the safety of others around you. You must account for the safety of others. I assume by now you have heard about noncompliant Alphas?” 

Ian nods. Predatory at best, locked in solitary confinement at worst. Ian swallows. 

“You see,” says the doctor. He leans against the sterile looking metal table bolted to the floor. “There are certain...responsibilities that come with being an Alpha. Knowledge of your traits and your immediate response is a large part about your course of treatment. Everyone is different, which is why we go to great lengths to tailor treatment to each Alpha. So nothing is missed. Or a surprise. Are you still with me?”

“My...traits about what? What kind of response?” 

“Dilation response,” the doctor says. “It’s a sexual response, as you might have learned or heard already? That happens when you see the gold at the outer edge of your eye?” 

“Yes,” Ian said. “I mean, I saw it, yeah.” 

The doctor nods. “The complication with this is differentiating from what we call rage response. It occurs when the Alpha feels threatened, or even territorial.” 

Ian feels the confusion in his face. “There’s a difference? Between, you know, the sex one? I thought it was the same.” 

“It can look the same to an outsider, even though the appearance is actually quite different,” the doctor says. “In the past, all Alphas and nearly all omegas could easily and quickly distinguish between the two. That remains, but only to a very small degree, and it’s not always the correct conclusion.” 

Ian nods. 

“With the medication and most treatments, that knowledge is lost. It isn’t as clear. In most Alphas, the rage response dilation can dilate until no gold remains. That is to say, the eyes are completely black. That can be the difference. This is in contrast to the response where the appearance leaves that gold edge you mentioned. Many Alphas have a thicker ring of gold as a sexual response, which is different and easier to spot. However, other Alphas have a very thin line, so at glance it might be mistaken as the rage response. So we record the sexual response to avoid unnecessary violence to Alphas when they dilate in public. Their ID book will prove their response. So we aren't hurt. Does that make sense? Any questions?” 

“Are you,” he swallows. His eyes flit over to the blonde, and to the silent nurses over the doctor’s shoulder. The guards still standing watch. “Are you all, you know, Alphas?” 

“We are,” he says. “And we’ve all been standing where you are right now. We were carefully selected by the government to carry out this evaluation. We are strong. But even we are often intimidated and threatened by young Alphas. They are often so strong that they can overpower anyone who crosses their path. There is little to no control. That is why you are deep inside the hospital where we can control the environment.” 

“How,” he begins, eyes wide. A realization. “How far underground am I?” 

“Far,” the blonde says. Even without her boots, she is very tall. Easily as tall as Ian, if not more. “You’re safe here.” 

Ian would feel claustrophobic if it wasn’t so bright here. “So what do I do now?” 

“We are going to photograph and then record the dilation of your eyes,” she says. “For your safety, we encourage an exercise where your sexual response is recorded rather than attempting to mimic an anger response. One is a bit easier on the body than the other, I think you’d say?” 

Ian huffs the tiniest laugh. “Yeah, I guess.” 

The doctor doesn’t say anything for a minute. “I realize this can be uncomfortable. It’s for yo–” 

“My safety,” Ian sighs. “I get it.” 

They all nod in complete unison. “Again,” the doctor says, “We will not touch your genitalia in any way.” He gestures to a red door at the end of the hall. “This will take place in private. In that room you will find a variety of materials that will help you become aroused. We encourage you to use them to reach a point of arousal. _Not to orgasm_. Arousal only. You may do this manually or just think, or both. Whatever you are comfortable with.” 

“ _Comfortable_ with?” Ian fights a smile. 

The doctor nods toward the blonde. “She will take a close up photo of your face and eyes before you go inside. There are mirrors inside the room. As soon as you see your eyes dilate, knock on the door. She will open it just long enough to take another photo. We will record your height and shoulders. We will do this portion very, very quickly. It will be over before you know it. We have a method that keeps everyone safe. Sometimes young Alphas will lash out for being interrupted. People have been seriously hurt, Ian. We don't want that to happen. We want this to be quick and painless for everyone.” 

“What happens after? Do you need me to like, give a, like, _sample_ or something?”

“Oh no,” the doctor says, hands up, as if Ian's question is way outside of bounds. As if he didn't just tell him to go jerk off so someone could take his picture. “At that point, you may stay in the room and complete your exercise, or you can come back outside. Whatever you decide is just fine.” 

“Okay,” Ian says. “Sure, okay.” He gestures to the clipboard. ICG.

The blonde rips open a small package. “Hands out, please, Ian.” It’s just an alcohol wipe. She swipes it over his palms. “You will find lubricant inside the room, just to your left,” she says. Her voice gets softer. “To review, you said _male_ omega?” 

Ian nods. As strange as this is, all of this, he’s curious about the room. What will his eyes look like? 

“Are you ready?” Her voice is upbeat. 

Ian nods. “Yeah,” he says. “Sure.” 

The room is small. Very small. Only slightly bigger than a closet. He finds the lubricant quickly and easily. There are mirrors everywhere, and there is a tv screen with a button next to it. When he touches the button, porn comes on. The actors are already moving. The omega is writhing beneath an Alpha, moaning. Who knows who they are though, really. Betas, probably. Ian’s hard though. He’s getting there. He presses the button and the movie shuts off. He looks down, and his cock looks a lot bigger than he remembers. It must be the light. It has to be. His hand moves. Fuck, he’s hard. He feels something in his throat, something rattling. He’s breathing hard, and he hears a sound. A rumbling. All of his nerves come alive. He can almost feel the hairs on the back of his neck. He stares into the mirror. Black, with a ring of gold. 

He slips himself back into his pants and bangs on the door, breathing hard. There is something that races under his skin, almost angry. Shit. Fuck. But they are there in time, and his eyes blink against the flash. One flash. Two. He feels a tape measure slide against his shoulders and leg. Fast. Very fast. 

“Go ahead,” the blonde says quickly. He only hears her voice. He can't see because of the flash. Ian turns inside the room and slams the door. Hard. Somewhere inside himself he can hear it slam. He wonders if he broke the hinge again. But another wave comes, and he doesn’t think anymore. He feels that rattling in his throat. He grits his teeth. He presses the button and the moaning starts over again. He zeros in on the omega. The omega is panting _Alpha. Yes Alpha._ Ian can feel his eyes, wide and strange. He can feel them. He hears a noise again. Almost a growl. Definitely a growl. It’s coming from him. His hand moves and moves. His cock. It’s different. It’s bigger. It is. It’s not just the light. The base of his cock is thicker. The omega’s mouth drops open as he comes. Ian moves faster. A growl. It’s a growl. 

He completes the exercise. 

*

When he wakes up, he doesn’t understand where he is at first. He’s lying down, and he realizes it’s a couch. It’s a long couch, and wide. He scrubs at his face with his hands. His eyes feel different. Gummy, like the time he got pinkeye. Sticky. He wipes at them, blinks as they become clearer.

He sits up slowly. He is covered with a thin, fuzzy brown blanket. He slides his hands against it slowly. It feels good. The walls are pale blue. The lights are soft, dim almost. It’s warmer. Cozy, even. A welcome change after so much time in the jarring white rooms, questions amid stainless steel. There are leather chairs. Another nice couch. He knows they are bolted to the floor, too. But it doesn’t feel the same. There is a basket with two pillows and another blanket. He pulls them out, lies down again, pulls it all over his head. 

He begins to piece it together when he rubs at the sore spot on his neck. It creeps in slowly. Pieces missing, but there. 

It started when he came out of the red room. He didn’t feel like himself. He was breathing hard and felt his hands flexing. The doctor took a step toward him, and Ian lunged at him. He could feel it. He felt himself do it. But he couldn’t stop it. 

He heard someone say his name. Just once. Then again, stronger. He felt hands on his arms, holding him back. He heard another growl. Loud. Louder. The arms held tighter, but one slipped and Ian’s arm was free for just a moment. He saw his arm reach out, fist closed, swinging at the doctor before his arm was held fast again. 

“Permission to tranq?” He felt the grip on his arm tighten. 

“No,” the blonde said sternly. “Injection, please. Load it for me. Are we ready?” 

“Yes,” the doctor says. “Here.”

Ian heard a roar. A roar so loud he would have slapped his hands over his ears if his arms were free. It felt like it covered everything. 

“Ian,” someone said. Maybe her, but the voice was like a whisper he can hardly hear. “Ian, take a deep breath. You don’t want to do this. Take a breath. You can stay calm. I know you can.” 

The roar continued. He didn’t know, doesn’t understand, that it was coming from him until he stopped. His throat was sore. He felt a sharp pinch in his neck. He didn’t see it’s was a needle until the blonde had moved away from him. The needle and tube were huge, point thick.  


He felt woozy almost immediately. The grip on his arms loosened, then tightened again as he fought for just a moment. When the arms dropped, Ian looked over. Guards. Stone faced. The blonde was nodding her head, encouraging words. The doctor busied himself with a tray that held medical tools. The other nurses bent over a table, talking quietly about something he couldn’t see. 

“Are we good?” The doctor’s voice was soothing. 

“Yes,” the blonde said. “I think we are. Ian?” 

Ian swallowed. His head felt funny. “What.” 

“Do you feel better?” Her voice was so sweet. Ian wanted to close his eyes. 

“I want to sit down,” he said. He could hear the slur in his words. 

“Perfect timing,” she said. “You’re all finished with your examination. You can go into the next room so you can rest. We still have to process the paperwork and photos and make your Alpha identification book. That will take a while. I’ll come wake you.” 

Ian’s head felt heavy. He tried to nod, but lost his balance. He felt the guards take his arms again, softer this time. 

One spoke. “Permission to move?” 

“I don’t think it’s necessary,” the blonde said. “I’ll take him.” 

She slipped her arm around Ian’s waist and motioned for the guard to open yet another metal door. He felt like he couldn’t see. “‘M heavy,” he slurred. “Too heavy for you.” 

He heard a small chuckle. “I’m an Alpha,” she said. “No one’s too heavy for me.” 

He heard himself laugh, just a little. “Wanna lay down,” he said, but she was already settling him on the couch. She covered him with a blanket. He shut his eyes immediately. He thought he heard another voice, thought he heard a door close, and then nothing but black. 

He doesn’t do anything. He stares at the ceiling and tries to breathe. When he went to sleep last night, he didn’t think this was what the next day would bring. He thinks about Fiona. She’s an Alpha. She’s been here. He thinks about Lip. He’s been here. He thinks of Alphas from the neighborhood. They’ve been here. But no one has told him this is what it was like. What happened. He’s still so tired. He rubs at the sore spot on his neck. Mickey starts to creep into his mind. Mickey Milkovich. He feels a jolt in his body. It’s not uncomfortable, just surprising. He thinks of his body, his arms, his eyes, his lips. He traces over him in long lines. He realizes that he can call up every single detail of his body, even though he’s only seen him in passing. There’s a thick wave of desire, and that rumbling in his throat. His mind remembers the porno in the red room, and he imagines the omega was Mickey. 

He’s hard, and he doesn’t want to do anything about it. It’s too weird. And he’s tired. He takes the blankets of his head, covers himself with the brown blanket, and puts a pillow over his crotch. He stares at the ceiling and tries not to think about just how far underground he might be. 

He hears something at the door. The door cracks open, and he hears the blonde say his name. 

“Come in,” he says. His voice sounds tired. His throat is still sore. “I’m awake.” 

She smiles and comes in with a tray. For a minute Ian almost cries. He’s so tired of this. All of this. He just wants to lie down here, in this calm blue room with the couches. The brown blanket he grips in his hands.

“What are you going to do now?” He can hear a crack in his voice. 

She turns around and she has a bottle of water and a couple of pouches filled with some sort of applesauce or something. “I’m just giving you a little food and water,” she says. “Sometimes the medication can make you queasy. But we try and get you to eat before you are discharged.” She passes the water to him as he begins to sit up, slowly. He eyes it warily. “It’s sealed,” she says. “It isn’t a trick, I promise. It’s just water.” 

He cracks open the cap and as soon as he starts drinking, he cannot stop. He sighs when he finishes it. He reaches for the applesauce – yes, it’s applesauce – and takes the cap off that, too. 

“Go easy,” she says. 

He slows down. “What happens now?” 

“We just have to wait for your identification materials. They’re almost finished. I’m just supposed to come hang out with you and make sure you recover from the injection okay. We’ve already selected your medications to use at home until you come back next week for the other half of your evaluation. That’s super easy. The rest of the evaluation. Nothing invasive. No more questions about your personal life. Mostly just strength tests. Running and stuff. Active things. It’s short. You should do very well.” 

“So I just have to wait for the I.D. thing and I can go?” 

“Yep,” she says. “Almost done.” She gestures to the couch, and Ian nods and scoots over. He holds the pillow on his lap. She smiles and has a light laugh as she notices. “It’s fine,” she says. “Perfectly normal reaction. It happens to pretty much everyone at this stage.” 

“Really?” 

“Really,” she smiles. “Almost every Alpha has a moment in Reveal where they can pinpoint a compatible omega. Usually someone they know well.” 

“I don’t–” he begins. “I don’t know him well. He’s just a guy in the neighborhood. He hates me. He hates everybody.” 

She nods. The laughs again. “That’s really funny.” 

He squints. “Why is it funny?” 

She shrugs. “A lot of the time, the omega is already drawn to the Alpha.”

Ian nods. “How?” 

“Just how it works.” She smiles. “So, he might already be interested in you,” she says. “Has he spent any time around you?” 

Ian shrugs. “Not really. I mean, sometimes I hang out with his sister. But if he’s around he just yells at me and takes off. Once he pushed me in the hallway at school for no reason.” 

Her smile gets larger, but then starts to fall. She sniffs and looks away, then down at her feet, still bare. Black polish on her toenails, too.

Ian sits up straighter. “What’s wrong,” he says. He can hear the desperation. “What did I do?” 

“Nothing,” she says quietly. “I was just thinking about when I–” She stops fast. “I’m sorry,” she says. “We aren’t supposed to talk about our own Reveal. Or our examination and evaluations. We are only allowed to talk about it here. Everything stays here. . Alphas can’t talk about it when they leave here. It’s secretive. It has to be. You have to sign documents. There are consequences for violations. Omegas and Betas can’t know what we do here.”

“We’re here,” Ian says quietly. 

She gives him a confused look. 

“We’re still here. You and me. Down here. You can tell me,” he says quietly. “If you want.” 

She is quiet for a long time. Ian blinks his eyes. “She was my best friend,” she says. “We. We slept at each other’s houses. We shared a bed. One morning I woke up and she was sitting up in my bed, panting hard. I asked what was wrong. The–” she swallows, lets out a shaky breath. “The bed was wet. I didn’t know what it was at first. I thought she. I don’t know what I thought. I didn’t think it was, you know, that.” 

Omega. Lubrication. Ian swallows. He nods. There is a part of this he knows. Omegas go through a heat cycle, and during the 3 days of full heat, they become aroused easily, usually seeking out an Alpha for the duration of the heat. They produce lubrication, sometimes a lot of it, which further encourages the Alpha. It is an overwhelming need, a drive unlike anything else.

“She seemed scared,” she says. “I didn’t know what had happened. She was shaking. I sat up and looked at her. I kept asking her if she was okay. But then she had this look in her eyes. She’d never looked at me that way before. I had always hoped she would. I wanted that so bad. We were 16. I hadn’t Revealed. I just stared at her. I remember thinking it was a dream. I know it’s cliche, but that’s what I thought.” 

She draws her long legs up on the couch and rests her head on her knees. “She grabbed me,” she says. “She grabbed my shoulders. And she pulled me on top of her. She kissed me. I had never been kissed before. Not ever. I knew I loved her. But I didn’t think it meant I was, you know. Gay. I just loved her.” She blinks her eyes.

When she turns her head, Ian can see a slight dilation in her eyes. Not a lot. Just a little. She blinks and they go back to normal. He doesn’t know what she means. He’s never been in love before. But he nods just the same. 

“She held onto my neck,” the blonde says. “Both of her hands. Just kind of holding my head, pulling me closer. She just,” she sighs. “She just _kissed_ me. Her mouth tasted good. It would seem like it wouldn’t because we were sleeping, but it did. She kept moving under me. She kept saying my name. The way she said my name,” she blinks her eyes. “It was like no one had said my name before. Her skin was hot. It was hot when I touched it. She whispered in my ear. She told me to take her shirt off. She was wearing this,” she pauses, gestures at her body. “This long tank top kind of thing. I reached down to slide it off her and I could feel her hips. They felt so...right. I squeezed at her hip and she wrapped her leg around me.” She swallows. She shakes her head. “I shouldn’t talk about this. It’s stupid.” 

“Hey,” Ian says. "It’s not stupid. It’s not.” 

“Not everyone gets,” she says. “Or like, understands how this works when you’re gay. I never talk about it. I don’t know many gay Alphas. So I guess I’m just kind of letting it out on you. It’s probably super inappropriate.” 

“Tell me,” he says. “You can tell me. You’re only like, what, two years older than me?” 

“Almost 3."

“Close enough,” he says. He smiles. 

“Okay.” She takes a deep breath. “She presses her, you know. Presses up against me." She smiles, briefly. “I was wearing this dumb shirt our band wore on a school trip.” She catches him looking. “Not, like being rock stars. Band-band. I played the clarinet.”

He smiles. “You were really cool, then.” 

“Oh,” she laughs. “You can’t even imagine how cool I was. I was on the junior debate team too.” She stretches her legs out again. “She was in it with me. And band.” 

“So?” 

“So,” she says. She takes a breath. “So she takes my shirt off, just slides it off, and she does it so fast. Her skin is so hot. She turns her head, holds onto my neck again and pulls me close. I kiss her neck, and she keeps whispering how she wants more. Harder. She keeps saying harder, and I do. I go harder. As hard as I can. I feel like I’m going to bruise her entire neck. Now I know. She had the bonding urge. She was looking for a claiming bite. But I didn’t know that.” 

Ian nods. There’s a lot he doesn’t understand, especially about that. He doesn’t want to interrupt. He knows he’ll get a book. A book like Lip’s. He’ll wait. He’ll remember the words. 

“She finally lets me go, lets me pull off her neck. I’m almost crying at this point. It is just so much exactly what I always wanted. We’re kissing, and when I start to kiss her chest, she’s moaning so loud. I’m so scared my mom will come upstairs. I keep whispering for her to shhh, and she clamps her mouth shut. I kiss her body. I feel her hands on my back, my shoulders. And I,” she says. Little shrug. “Get lower, you know. And then I know what it is. Why the bed is wet.”

“Omega,” he says softly. “The lubrication thing? Like, was she, was she in full heat or something?” 

She nods. She looks over at him, and her eyes are different again. Dilated more. She squeezes them shut. “Ugh, I hate when they do this. Thinking about this is the only time they do this. Like, get wide all the way, really fast. Thinking about her.” 

“Just her?” 

She nods. “Just her.” 

“Then what?” Ian asks. “But you don’t have to tell me. I just don’t know how it would work,” he says. “Like, if you weren’t Revealed yet, how did you, you know.” 

“Do what?” she said. “Have sex with her?” 

He nods. 

“We just did,” she says. “She kept telling me how much she wanted me. How much she,” Her voice shakes. Just a moment. “Loved me. So I did. We did. I was getting close to my Reveal, but I didn’t know that. But I could almost feel it. Who I was, who I am, underneath. And I think something in her knew, too.” She rubs at her eyes. 

“How? How could you tell?” 

“I was,” she pauses. “It was the way I, you know, tasted her,” she says. “You always read about how much there is. And how fast omegas climax during heat, over and over, and how every time they do, there’s just more and more. Like, just overwhelming. Too much.” She shakes her head. “It didn’t feel like that to me. It didn’t feel like too much. It felt. It was. Perfect. She was perfect. It was just perfect.” 

Ian leans back on the couch. His voice is soft. “What happened?” 

“We. We stayed in bed a while. I knew it was her Reveal. We both knew. I told myself that it was probably just because I was there. It was just me being in the proximity. That she didn’t really want me. That in her first heat she’d probably just choose anyone. Or maybe not. I didn’t know. I wouldn't let myself believe she picked me on purpose. She felt so good. And it was what I always wanted. To make her feel good. Like that.” 

There is the slightest blush as she looks down at her hands. “And she made me feel good, too. And when, I mean. When I...got there, it just hit me so hard. And before I could even catch my breath, she kept going," she says, breath shaky. "What's weird is that after I pulled her up again, I felt like my Alpha was coming alive. It's like my Alpha was almost proud? I don't know how to explain it. And it's not like I had a name for it, then. But I could feel it." Her eyes are darkening but she keeps blinking. “Eventually we slow down, and even though she’s still whispering all this stuff to me, even though I want to keep going, I stop. We both know. We both know she has to get up. She has to get to the hospital. Protocol. I’m scared that something bad will happen if she doesn’t go. Like something dangerous. Like she won’t be safe. All the stuff they say, right?” 

Ian nods. 

She swallows. “I help her up. I start getting dressed, but she keeps pulling on my clothes. I help get her dressed. My hands are shaking. I don't want her to get dressed. I want to see her body again. Touch her. But we can't. I know that. I wet a washcloth with cold water and wipe her forehead, her face. Her skin is still really hot. But something about her eyes. They look especially beautiful. Her eyes change color. Like, depending on what she’s wearing? But then, it was like she was wearing everything all at once. I could see every tiny variation of color. And the look in her eyes? Like I was special? I’ll never forget that. Never.” 

“What did you do?” 

“I took her to the hospital. This hospital. I park my car and I wait. And wait. And wait. It’s dark outside by the time someone comes outside. It’s not her. I run up to the person anyway. It’s a nurse, but I don’t know that. I ask him about her. I tell him her name. I say please, I say please, just tell me she’s okay. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t say anything. Not even that he can’t talk about it. So I get back in my car. And I think about going home. But I don’t. I just wait. I fall asleep. The next morning someone is knocking on the window. I open my eyes and it’s her dad. I roll down the window, and I’m about to ask if she’s okay, you know. But he just stares at me like he’s never seen me before. So I leave.”

Ian turns his body so he can face her better. He sees her blink her eyes. For a moment he thinks it’s the dilation, but he realizes. Tears. “I go back to school. I don’t see her for the two weeks. The waiting for the Reveal evaluations to be done thing? But one day she shows up. She’s in the band room. She plays the trombone, so she’s getting all her stuff out, and when I walk in she looks at me, but looks away really fast. Of course I’m worried, and I’ve missed her and want to ask what happened. What they did to her. All of that. So I rush over and everything pours out at once. I know to be quiet, so I’m quiet, and the room is still almost empty. People are trickling in. I keep asking if she’s okay, but she doesn’t answer. She doesn’t even look at me. The teacher comes in, tells me to sit down. We don’t talk again. Not for a while.” 

“Not until you Revealed.” It pops into Ian’s mouth before he even thinks it. “Then it happened again.” 

She nods. “You’re catching up to me,” she says. “We’re starting to link.” 

“Link?” 

“Link our emotion and thought patterns. Sometimes Alphas can link and we can communicate more deeply. Not everyone. Just Alphas that click with each other. I guess we click. Do you feel it? We’re linking.”

Ian nods, eyes wide. “I can.” He blinks his eyes. “It feels. It feels weird.” 

“It does,” she says. “It feels really weird. This might get bizarre if we’re starting to link.” 

Ian nods again. He has no idea what’s happening. He feels his mouth move. “You Revealed,” he says. “And you went to find her. You didn’t come to the hospital. You went to find her, instead. At her house. But she wasn’t there.” 

She breathes deeply and nods her head. 

“But you could smell her. She was at school,” he says. “You went to find her.”

“I did,” she says. “I ran. I ran the whole way there. I didn’t stop. I wasn’t even tired.” 

“She wasn’t scared,” he says. “When she saw you. In the hall. She wasn’t scared. You were so sure she’d be scared. Of your eyes.” 

She nods fast. “But she wasn’t. And right away, she knew. She knew how I felt about her. How much I wanted her. So I kissed her. In the hallway. Against her locker. We kissed. She pulled me into her neck. She started whispering to me. About my bed. The things we did. My mouth on her. The way I made her feel. How much she loved touching me. Telling me how good it felt. Us. How right it was. Telling me we needed to leave before anyone saw. And I felt it. Her. I could feel her. What she wanted. What she wanted me to do with her. To her.” She stops to catch her breath. “But then I heard a noise. Then another. She clapped her hand over my mouth, but it was too late.”

“You growled. A teacher heard it.” 

She puts her hands over her face. Both hands. “He did. He heard it. And she pulled at my arm. We tried to get away. But the alarm went off and the doors locked. She started crying. I didn’t know what to do. I tried to break a window. It didn’t work. They weren’t glass. I never noticed they weren’t glass.” 

Ian thinks of the clear hallway, that tube that was just like some sort of hamster cage. “They hurt you.” 

“They didn’t know,” she says. “They thought I was in rage response. I wasn’t. I was scared. I was scared and I wanted her. I wanted to be with her. I couldn’t think of anything else but that. I wanted to keep her safe. I wanted us to be safe.” 

“Who did it? The tranq.” 

“The fucking _band_ teacher. It would be funny if it wasn’t so awful, right?” She chuckles. “You can laugh. It’s kinda funny. Ironic.” 

He allows himself the smallest smile. He doesn’t think it’s funny. “Did it hurt?” 

“No, not really,” she says. “I didn’t feel it at all. I fell down really quickly. They called 211 - you know, the ABO number? - and they come and grabbed me. Brought me here. You think it was scary in the tube? Just imagine waking up down here.” 

“They kept you here a long time, huh?” 

She nodded. “I got admitted. I didn’t want to do any of this shit. I just wanted to get out and get to her. I was mouthy as hell. I think half the reason they picked me to work here is because I was impossible as a patient, right from the start. I refused to take my shoes off. I wanted them on so I could run away as soon as they weren’t looking. I let them measure me, but I refused to go into the red room. I told them I didn’t need to go in the fucking red room. If they wanted me to show sexual response they should just bring her to me and I’d give them all the fucking sexual response they needed.” 

Ian does laugh at that, and then feels bad, but she’s laughing too. 

“They wore me down,” she says with a heavy breath. “I had no clue how long I was held here. I was on a lot of drugs. They couldn’t troubleshoot my compliance because I refused everything. I refused to do the endurance tests. They told me I’d probably feel better if I ran on the treadmill and let them clock my time. You know how Alphas can run far and fast? It’s how come I ran all the way to the school without getting tired. But the idea of running only reminded me of her. I wanted them to just kill me.” 

Ian flinches. “They held you down.” 

She shows her wrists, twists them around. “I kept breaking all the cuffs. All the leather cuffs. They used the thickest ones they had. Two sets.”

Ian can feel it. The link. He does a sharp intake of breath. He feels tears in his eyes. “When did she come?” 

“Probably soon after that,” she says. “They had to give government clearance and of course she had to sign a million things. So did her parents. That’s how they found out. About us.”

“And you promised,” he says. “You promised you wouldn’t try and see her again. But you were lying.” 

“Yep,” she says slowly. “And so was she. But we put the show on. I started doing all the shit they wanted me to do. I went in the red room with my eyes closed. I completed just to piss them off. But I did it properly a little later. And I ran on the treadmill, did all the other endurance tests. Anything to get me out.” 

“And they finally let you out?” 

“They _finally did!_ Get this. Four months. I was in for four months! So of course the first thing I do after my parents go to bed is sneak out and go to her house. I know which window is hers, obviously.” 

Ian laughs. “Did you climb a tree or throw pebbles at her window?” 

“Tease away,” she says. “Just for that, I’m not going to tell you how I got her to come outside.” 

“What? You have to!” 

“Nope. If you are ever in this situation you will have to figure it out for yourself.” 

“Unbelievable.” 

“You’ll live,” she says with a grin. “So I see her light shut off, and at first I think she’s not coming. But the front door opens, just slightly, and there she is. She comes out of the house. She’s wearing the fucking band t-shirt. Pink sweatpants. She’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. I don’t have my car anymore, but it doesn’t matter. We find a place, a safe place, to make love. We make love all night. We learn that she doesn’t have to be in a full heat to feel that much pleasure, and I don’t have to be in full Alpha mode to show her exactly how much I want her. We learn each other's bodies. What feels good? What we like? We learn how to let go. Keep each other safe. We learn that we can just be together. Just like normal people. Just like. Fine, Just say it. We’re both thinking it.” 

“Like Betas,” Ian says. 

“Just like Betas,” she repeats. “But not, though. Not exactly like Betas. People think that because we’re medicated, we turn into Betas. It’s not true. Not true for us, and not true for omegas, either. There are still things. Still things that can only happen between an Alpha and an omega. Special things. Good things. Beautiful things. Powerful things.” 

“What things?” 

She shakes her head and puts her finger to her lips. He feels the link break. 

“You’d think we’d caught. We never got caught. We didn’t stop. We had to get creative, but it didn’t stop. At school, we kept our distance. We knew we were being watched. All the time. After the tranq everyone knew exactly what we were. But we were together, all told, for over a year, not including the 4 months I stayed here. We just fell deeper and deeper into each other. Outside of school, we spent as much time together as we could. Sneaking into each others beds in the middle of the night. Other places. She started doing what she called “research.” She had a feeling, she said. She had a feeling that it was all wrong. Not us.” Her voice drops. “Them.” 

“Them who?” 

It’s a funny look. Her eyes press into his. He feels it. The link. She breathes in and out slowly. “It doesn’t matter.” But Ian knows. Them. This. This. The hospital. The doctors. The meds. All of it. 

He opens his mouth, but she holds onto his eyes. Link. He breathes in deeply. He hears it. He hears her like a voice in his head. _She said it was a lie. That we aren’t dangerous. We started talking about it. What if all of this is just wrong? I said we should just run away. After graduation. Experiment with our medications. She wrote out extensive plans in a notebook we kept under her mattress. We had a plan._

He’s startled when she speaks out loud again. “But in the end, she just went to college, and I didn’t. And she found someone at college. Right away. Someone she picked over me. A male Alpha, surprise surprise.” 

Ian shook his head. “Fuck,” he says. “I’m–”

“I’m okay,” she says quickly. “She came home for Christmas. I tried to go see her. I knocked on the door. She opened it and at first all I smelled was him. I gagged. Literally. I backed away and leaned over into the snow. Nothing came up, but it tried to. I kept gagging until she shut the door. She stepped out of the house and I started to calm down. I could feel the cold. Smell the snow. And that's when I could smell her, underneath. She smelled the same. I felt this ache. It wasn’t just missing her. Wasn’t like missing her laugh or everything we ever said to each other, or even just missing her body, or sex. It was so much deeper than that. It’s like I felt something break in me. Deep. No, not break. It was like a deep tear. Bloody. Raw. I started to cry. She reached out to me but then stopped. I heard myself saying all sorts of words. I was drooling. Messy crying. Sobbing, really.”

Ian feels it. The link. He feels the crush. The weight. His eyes well with tears.

“She keeps saying she's sorry. She's so sorry. She didn't mean for this to happen. She wants to be friends. Like before. She keeps talking about before. Like before, before before. I don't even remember a before. For me, there is no such thing as before. Before her. It’s only us. It was only us. Forever.”

“The Alpha?” Ian guesses. 

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, the Alpha. In me. Even though we hadn’t officially bonded, even though we hadn’t gone through claiming, we kept saying we would. We knew we would. We were just going to wait. Wait until we were done with high school. We promised. My Alpha hadn’t forgotten that promise. The Alpha was making me break down. I started screaming. So I’m sobbing and screaming and I don’t even feel the cold anymore. I hear myself roar at her. I see her crying, crying so hard, but I can’t stop.” She looks over, there’s dilation. Fast. Ian can see a tremble in her hands before she makes them into fists. But she closes her eyes and breathes. Her hands relax. She breathes deeply. 

She opens her eyes. They have shrunk down again. “He comes outside. The other Alpha. I can see his eyes, and when I look at her I can tell my eyes are just like his. She tells me to go home. That it’s over. That I have to let her go.”

“So then what?” 

She wipes at her eyes. “So I went home. And a couple days later she was gone.” She breathes out heavily. “Fuck. Sorry.” 

“It's okay.”

She takes a deep breath. “So that’s that,” she says sadly. “That’s how I ended up here. The doctors did a follow-up on New Year’s Day because I was such a tough nut to crack. I was a mess. They told me to come back to this hospital. I told them to go fuck themselves. They told me they thought I should work here. I told them they were liars who just wanted to cuff me down again. They said it was the last time they ever wanted things to get that far. They needed my help. They wanted me to teach them what to do if they had someone like me. Another Alpha.” 

“A gay Alpha? Or what?” 

She shoves his arm. “Not a _gay_ Alpha. Although, to be fair, they don’t understand why Alphas and omegas would be attracted to the same sex because they can’t procreate. As if procreation is the only reason people have sex. God.” 

“So what, then? Why you?” 

“Because I understand how they think.” She shrugs. “Noncompliant Alphas. I was one. So I’m good at that. That and trying to deescalate situations like that meathead guard wanting to shoot a tranq in you. You were being compliant. You were just confused. It’s really confusing, especially at first. You were gonna be fine. You were listening.”

“What did you stick in my neck?” 

“Just a relaxant,” she says. “Short downtime.” 

They sit in silence. 

Ian speaks first. “How long?” 

“How long what?” 

“How long since, you know. How long has it been.” 

She sighs. “ Almost 2 years I guess?”

“Did you…” 

“See her again? No. If she came back here, I’d know. I’d be able to smell her.” 

“Really? Even after all this? The other Alpha? And all the…” 

“Medicine doesn’t stop it,” she says quietly. “Not when it’s like this. With the right person.” 

“Did you find anyone? After?” 

She shakes her head. “No. I can’t smell anyone the way I smelled her. I’ve tried to, you know, get out there. See if I’m compatible with anyone else. See if anyone smells good. But no one does, really. Not like her.” 

“Shit,” Ian says. “I’m sorry.” 

She slaps her hands on her knees. “Oh well.” She clears her throat. “If I were happy, I wouldn’t be working here. And you would have been shot with a couple of tranq guns.” She tries a laugh, but it doesn’t come. 

“Thanks,” he says. “You know.” 

She nods. “Come on,” she says. “Your ID book is probably ready.” They are almost to the door when she turns. “You can’t repeat anything I told you. I mean it. No one. Not even the omega you smelled, okay?” 

Ian frowns. “Why would I even tell him anything? He hates my guts.” 

She shrugs. “I don’t know,” she says. “He might not.”

“He does,” Ian says. “Trust me.” 

“Anyway,” she says. “You _cannot_ repeat my story, or anything that happened here today. Nothing. You haven’t met any of us, okay? We are imaginary. If I see you on the street, I will look right past you like I’ve never met you before in my life. This is just how it works. Okay? You promise?” 

Ian nods. Nods faster when her eyes bore into him. “I promise. Um. Uh…” 

“Elizabeth,” she says. “My name is Elizabeth.” She smiles, give a wink. “Shhh.” 

Ian nods. Elizabeth opens the door into the bright room. He can feel his eyes change, but the way the iris and pupil normally work. Letting light in, or protecting when it’s too harsh. But just like a normal person. A Beta person, or the person he was yesterday. He doesn’t remember yesterday. He doesn’t remember a before. Not at all. 

* 

Elizabeth doesn’t bring him upstairs. After they leave the blue room, she disappears into another door without looking back. But he’s finished, they say. The doctor sits down at a desk in the back and starts to type something on a typewriter. An actual typewriter. 

One of the male nurses show him his ID book. It is small enough to fit in the back pocket of his jeans, but has thick brown leather cover. Inside is his name. His birth date. Date of Reveal. His measurements. Height, shoulders, hips. There is a close up on the face, profile, full-body photos. There is the photo of his eyes. No dilation. 

He turns the page. He is in the red section. He sees the photo of his eyes. A close up photo of his face. God he looks different. He swallows. He looks at his height. He frowns. It’s not right. He flips back to the white page with his height on it. The red page says he’s 3 inches taller. He looks up at the nurse. “Check your shoulder measurements, too.” 

Ian looks at the shoulder measurements before he flips back to the red. 2 ¾ inch difference. 

“I don’t understand this,” Ian says. 

“When Alphas have a sexual or rage response, they can actually get taller. There is often a shoulder expansion as well. So taller and wider. You can’t see it happen. It happens so subtly you’d never know. It doesn’t happen for everyone, but most Alphas have one or the other. Some, like you, have both.

“What does that mean, though?” 

The nurse smiles. “I guess don’t hit your head on the door.” He pulls out a sheet of paper. “I just need you to sign this discharge sheet. We will call to schedule a follow up for next week. Did she explain that to you?” 

Ian nods. He looks at the paper. It’s a list of promises. Promises not to disclose any information. There is a line at the bottom for him to sign. He takes the pen eagerly and signs it without looking. Next to the paper is a book. He knows it’s a book like Lip’s. Alpha manual. He picks it up, feels the heavy weight of it in his hand. 

The doctor has a small paper bag “Your medications,” he says. “These should help you rest up before you come back next week. No school. You need your evaluations to be complete first.”

Ian nods. He knows that already. Everyone can tell someone Revealed. They are always gone for 2 weeks. 

A nurse comes over and hands him a little cup with two green pills inside. He offers another cup of water. “Take these,” the doctor says. “It will help you feel relaxed. Take a nap when you get home.” 

“I already feel relaxed though,” Ian says. “Why do I have to take–”

“Protocol,” the nurse says. 

Ian puts the pills in his mouth.

“I’ll see you up,” the nurse says. “Go ahead and get your shoes on.” 

Ian looks down. The nurse is already wearing shoes. “Where did she go?” 

He pauses and looks away. “She had something else to take care of. You will see her at your next evaluation.” He gestures to the elevator. “It’s time to leave.”

*  
Lip is there. He is leaning against the car door. Smoking. Ian’s shoulders drop. He was holding his breath. Relief. Lip grins. Ian can’t get his car door shut fast enough. 

The car turns over and they start to pull out of the parking lot. “How’d it go?” Lip asks. “You okay?” 

Ian nods. He looks out the window. “It was weird,” he says. 

“What did they say?” 

Ian hesitates. “I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about it.” 

Lip breathes the smoke out. “Fuck ‘em,” he says. “They’re not gonna know. We just can’t talk about it with Betas and omegas and people who haven’t Revealed. That’s all.”

“Oh,” Ian says. Lip merges onto the freeway. Ian can see the leaves turning color. He sees the houses. 

“So,” Lip says. Ian jumps at the sound of his voice. Everything seems loud. “Do they still have that doctor? The hot one? Really blonde? Tall? Maybe 18, 19?” 

Ian hesitates. “The nurse?” He is about to say her name, but he stops himself just in time.

“No. The doctor. There was a female doctor, and three male...nurses? I guess?” 

“They had a man doctor. Really dark hair. Glasses?” 

Lip shakes his head. “No,” he says. “He’s a nurse.” 

“He had a white coat on.” 

Lip smirks and shakes his head. “Anyone can put on a coat. She's the boss.” 

Ian swallows. “That’s impossible. We talked in that room. Where I was sleeping. She told me–” He stops. “Nevermind.” 

“What room?” 

Ian’s head feels heavy. He closes his eyes. “The blue one. With the couches.” 

Lip doesn’t say anything for a long time. “I didn’t go in there,” he says. I just sat at a table.” 

Ian still has his eyes closed. He thinks of her. Of them, talking. Linking. Trusting. He feels like he should feel betrayed. But he doesn’t. He feels oddly better. Special. He takes a deep breath and leans back on the headrest.

Lip wakes him up when they get to the house. Ian manages to get inside. He half-crawls up the stairs. Lip offers to help, but Ian shakes his head. He can see his bed. The same bed he woke up in this morning. Before. Like Elizabeth said, there was no before. There is only this. Him, curled up in bed, breathing in and out deeply. Trying to find the smell of Mickey. He can’t find it. It’s gone.


	2. Who is the Third

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian completes his evaluation and returns to school

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm not one for notes much of the time, but I thought I'd pop in. I forgot to mention that there are canon elements to this, but not exactly linear. For example, Mandy and Ian are already friends, but that has happened off-page. So he knows Mickey, but with him in and out of town and juvie etc, he doesn't know him well. Also, Kash exists (sorry) but Ian's never worked at the Kash and Grab. Mickey still attends high school at 19, but sporadically. Ian turns 17 but who knows when his birthday is. I made it November 1st just for the sake of the story. I needed a chapter to bridge things tbh.

When he looks down, he sees his feet moving, just like they always do. Each foot pounding down after the other. He can feel the heart monitor around him. He was worried it would get uncomfortable and sweaty as he ran, but he hasn’t broken a sweat. Not at all. He loves running. He's good at it. But this is different. 

After he looks down, he goes back to staring at the wall. He isn’t used to this. The treadmill. Staring at nothing. He’s goes to a gym sometimes, but he only goes there for weights. He runs around his neighborhood. He runs everywhere, watching all the garbage and the boarded buildings and needles on the ground. Sometimes dandelions in the cracks of the sidewalk. The scenery changes. Varied. Interesting. Not like this. He can hear his feet pounding. He does not hear the exhaustion of his breath or his heart. Not at all. It’s as if he could start flying any minute. 

“19 miles,” someone says. 

He glances over at Elizabeth. As if she felt his gaze, she turns quickly to face him. She gives a small smile. Her lab coat is white. Her pale hair is braided differently, but still complicated. He wonders how she can do that. He wonders how long it is, really. Her hair. How she’s able to braid it all without her arms going numb. 

She taps a large blue monitor with her pen. “He’s slowing down,” she says to no one in particular. 

He doesn’t feel like he’s slowing down. He looks over at her again. He feels them link, almost. But the longer he looks at her, the more he can feel the link blocking. It’s strange. For the past three days at home –resting up and reading his book like he was supposed to–he tried to picture what her Reveal was like. He remembered his own, the fear, the confusion. How strong is she, really? Like, behind all of this. She has to be strong if she decided to run instead of come here. Decided to run to her...what would she be called? Her girlfriend? Her omega? Could someone even be called _your omega_ if there wasn’t a claiming bite? He doesn’t understand. He wants to understand. 

She clears her throat. Just the slightest bit. He can feel a little wave, a little link. She isn’t telling him anything. Not really. He supposes it’s just enough to let him know she knows. That he’s trying to get in deeper. Then there is a stronger feeling. One that almost makes him stop running. It’s another link block. A hard one. Her eyes are dilated, only slightly, but he understands. 

Back off. She wants him to back off. Stop trying to link. 

“21 miles.” 

He still doesn’t feel like he’s slowing down, but she looks back at the monitor and then logs something on her clipboard. 

He thinks this is the last thing. The last test. It has to be. She was right. This has been quicker, easier, more relaxed. He likes doing things with his body. They had lead him into a room with various equipment. He lifted weights, climbed up and over things, did push ups and pull ups until they told him to stop. They had him break things. Wood. Plastic. Metal, even. He pressed the heavily weighted metal statue of a tall person across the room. He lifted it and moved it around, eventually throwing it over a wall. And all the while, he wasn’t tired. Not even close. He felt like he could keep doing it. Wanted to keep doing it. He liked the way all the people in the room looked at each other. He couldn’t read their eyes, but there was something there he liked. He had grinned and huffed a laugh. His Alpha stretched out, proud. 

In the previous exercises, he had been timed. Now it’s distance. Probably time too, but it seems that distance is the main objective. “Am I,” he says, feet still pounding. “Am I really slowing down? Because I _really_ don’t feel like I am.” 

“Shh,” someone says. “No talking.” 

He fights an eyeroll. Something is different in him, now. Not as afraid. Confident, almost. He doesn’t know why exactly. His Alpha is supposed to be under control, right? Maybe it’s the relaxants he’s supposed to take every day. He shoots Elizabeth a look again, but she turns and looks at the screen. 

He can feel it. It slowly creeps in, right after they announce mile 24. Sure enough, he begins to slow down. Shortly after mile 26, he is walking. 

As the treadmill slows to a stop, he bends over, like he always does. He quickly realizes it is just his body’s muscle memory. Bending down at the end of his run. He doesn’t need it. He doesn’t need to slow his breath, wincing against sore ribs, pounding heart. He _is_ breathing hard, but just slightly, not nearly as hard as usual. He catches his breath almost immediately as he stands up with a smile and steps off the treadmill. 

“What else?” He puts his hands on his hips and looks around. He grins. 

He knows they were gauging his strength, trying to figure out how many milligrams of strength stabilizers he needs to hold him down, hold him back. He can tell by the way that they look at each other that he’ll probably get a big dose. 

He looks over at the guy with dark hair and glasses. The man he thought was the doctor. He’s kind of handsome. If all of this wasn’t so fucked up, and if he didn’t know he was an Alpha, he’d probably hit on him. He’s into older guys. At least he was, before Reveal. He is even fucking the owner of a convenience store from time to time. Elizabeth takes a step toward him and shoots him a look that says _you cannot be serious._ He huffs a little laugh and stretches his legs. 

He thinks about Mickey. It’s still another week before he can go back to school. He can’t smell him. He didn’t know where he is, and didn’t ask. He figured they had already pulled that part of him away with the drugs. He faded in and out of sleep, reading his book as long as he could keep his eyes open. He wanted to talk with Lip about it, but he was away at college and they couldn’t talk about it on the phone, just in case an omega or beta overheard.

“I need to talk with the nurses,” Elizabeth says. “Would you like to go back into that room to rest while we finish up?” She looks at him pointedly. He nods slowly. Then nods again, more certain. “Good,” she says. She turns to a nurse. “Take him over, please?” 

The nurse doesn’t touch him, and Ian is glad. He unlocks the door. A real lock. Ian didn’t see it before because he was drugged. But when the door opens, it is just as calm as he remembers. He sits down cross-legged on the couch and closes his eyes. 

It’s been happening a lot lately. Almost all the time. Whenever he closes his eyes, Mickey pushes right to the front. He still can’t believe how quickly he can conjure up his entire body. Every centimeter. It’s as if he has taken his sweet time with him, kissing and caressing him breathless, spreading him out beneath him, removing his clothes slowly, so slowly, to uncover his body bit by bit. He can almost taste his mouth, his skin, smell his scent radiating in waves. He can almost feel him hard under his hand. Every part of him, hard. He lets out a low, slow breath. He grabs a pillow and puts it over his crotch again. 

He’ll admit it. He’s still massively attracted to him. Or maybe it’s the idea of him. After all, he hasn’t been able to smell him. Not even a little bit. Not at all. So it can’t be real. It can’t be like...Elizabeth and whoever that girl is. Was. If it were like that, he could still smell him. Right? He would know? 

He opens his eyes when he hears the door open. He knows it’s her. 

“Hey,” she says. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were the doctor,” Ian says firmly, right away. Not a question. 

She sighs and shoves her hands into her coat pockets. “Because,” she says. 

Ian huffs. “Nice answer,” he spits out. He shakes his head. “But you were so nice to me,” he says. “Was it all fake? A lie? Like even that girl and your–”

“No,” she snaps. Her voice is different, even with one word. Authoritative. It makes him almost wince at first, just before he looks down at his lap. Wow. He was right. She’s so strong. Such a strong Alpha. When he thinks of her hospital story, he isn’t surprised. He can’t even wrap his head around how strong she would be off meds. It should make him afraid, but instead it feels like he’s safe with her. Like she could fight anyone off, and nothing bad could ever hurt them. Ever. A bond. He feels a bond with her. One he doesn’t even feel with Lip. “Nothing I told you was fake. Nothing.” 

He realizes his head has bowed even deeper, almost submissively. “It’s okay,” she says quickly. “Shit, I didn’t mean to over-do it. Sometimes I can get a little...mega Alpha? Especially with stuff like that? Stuff that hurts? Sorry.” His head hasn’t moved. “Ian, you can look up. It’s okay now.” 

He does, eyes wide. “How did you do that?” he breathes. 

“Sorry,” she says. She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” She isn’t angry, but he knows she won’t say anything more. 

“But when you came and got me,” he says quietly, picking at the edges of the pillow. “Why didn’t you tell me you were the doctor?” 

She pauses. “I knew you were scared,” she says. “Up in the tube.” She sits down next to him. “I could see it and hear it in your voice and face, of course. But most people are scared. This is so weird and so scary and it just doesn’t make sense. But more than that, I could feel you. A connection with you.” 

He raises an eyebrow. “Really?” 

She nods. “And I had to follow all the protocol and do all the typical stuff. But I didn’t want to do it as a doctor. I didn’t want to be that person. I wanted you to be able to be comfortable with me. Besides, we are all trained pretty much the same way. The only reason I have higher standing is because I have that extra edge of understanding noncompliance. And truthfully, I'm the strongest Alpha here, and they need that. They really need that. I knew you’d be compliant. I felt it. So it wasn’t really because of that.” 

“Why then?” Ian says. “Just because I’m gay? We’re gay?” 

She nods. “Yeah, kinda. Maybe. I don’t know. It’s probably a combination of things. I’m still not entirely sure.” 

He remembers the speaker. He remembers how it clicked off for a longer period of time after he said “male omega.” How it took a moment to come back on. 

“So you heard me say male omega and decided to switch.” 

“Pretty much,” she says. “Like I said, I don’t know many gay Alphas.” 

He opens and closes his mouth. “How many?” 

She looks up at the ceiling. “Maybe like 10? 12? 13 including you?” 

He can feel something in his face. Disappointment. Something like that. “That’s all?” 

She nods. “I mean,” she says. “Obviously more exist. But there are more gay betas than gay Alphas.” 

“What about omegas?” 

“More female omegas than male.” 

“But if there are more lesbian omegas, then how–”

She shakes her head. “Oh, no. That’s not what I meant. I meant there are more female omegas in general.” 

He nods. “Oh yeah,” he says. “That makes sense.” 

“That’s what I meant last time when I said that all these scientists don’t understand queer omegas and Alphas. Because we can’t procreate. But even betas procreating is hit or miss." She clenches her teeth. “I don't know why scientists are so stuck on us and our sex lives. They should be worried about the procreation of their precious betas. That’s all they fucking care about.”

Ian feels his frown. “Wait,” he says. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.” 

She tsk tsks. “Haven’t you read your book? Or listened in health class?” 

“Well yeah,” he says. “But I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

She rolls her eyes. “I knew they’d start doing this. Not explain all of it and go all 'just let nature take it’s course'. It used to be that a beta couple couldn’t have babies at all, and now look. Betas have babies all the time. Not as many as omegas of course, and it can be really hard for betas to get pregnant. But still. We’re all adapting and changing. Edges are being blurred. In some ways that’s really great. People who are outside the gender binary are finally falling firmly into beta. Same with people who are asexual or intersex. It’s _so_ much safer than it was before. We live in a much safer time as far as that is concerned.” A little shiver goes through her. “I can’t even fucking think about before that fully beta adaptation was in place.” 

Ian shakes his head in disbelief. He swallows hard, but doesn’t know what to say. Anything would be nowhere near enough.

They sit in silence. 

“So what,” Ian says finally. “What am I supposed to do now? Like, how am I supposed to meet someone if there aren’t a lot of us?” 

“I don’t know,” she says. “But it’s a big city. Big metro. There’s lots of hospitals scattered around. I’ve only been here full-time for like 8 months. I'm sure there were others that came through and I just wasn't working that day.” 

“So your number is only those who came through here? You don’t know of _any_ other gay Alphas?” 

Elizabeth hesitates. “Um,” she says. “Well.” She takes a breath. 

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“Have you ever heard of a club? Like, it’s kind of a secret underground A/b/o club for queer people? It's not like the other gay clubs. Those are pushy enough, but this is different."

Ian perks up. “What’s the name of it?” 

She takes a deep breath and is about to speak before she shakes her head. “I can’t–I mean I shouldn’t–” she says. “I really shouldn’t say. I shouldn’t have brought it up. Fuck. Sorry.” 

Ian clenches his jaw. “Why? Why would you say that and then not tell me? Because I’m younger than you?”

She shoots him a look. “You said so yourself, I’m not much older than you. I’m three–”

“Two,” Ian says. “ _Almost_ three doesn’t count as three. What, you haven’t been there?” 

She flicks her eyes up in the corner of the room. A camera. Ian’s eyes go wide. “Are they recording this?” 

She shakes her head. “No,” she says. “I shut it off. And the audio.” 

“Are you gonna get in trouble?” 

She takes a deep breath. “Probably not,” she says. “I didn’t get in trouble last time we were in here when I shut it off. They’re too freaked of my Alpha to fire me.” 

“I asked you a question. I asked if you would get in trouble,” he says, and he’s startled at how stern his voice is. Even a little rumble in his throat. “Answer me.” 

She chuckles softly at him. “Oh, honey. That’s cute.” 

He grits his teeth, and he feels something in his eyes. “What?” 

She shakes her head and touches his hand. She looks him in the face. “Take a deep breath,” she says. “Your eyes are dilating because you feel threatened. You aren’t threatened. We are just having a conversation and you feel like you’re not being taken seriously. I’m sorry I took it so lightly. Take a deep breath, okay? That's it. Good. Let it out slowly.” 

Ian’s eyes flutter closed and open. “Am I– is it better? My eyes?” 

She nods.“You’ll get better at controlling it,” she says. “Your Alpha.” She leans her head back on the couch and chuckles to herself. “God, you should have seen me in the beginning after I was released. Alpha-ing out at my parents. They’re both betas. They had to do all these fertility treatments to have me, and it turns out they gave birth to this loose-cannon lesbian Alpha who could probably bend their car in half after being rejected by a girl.”

“Betas can give birth to Alphas? I thought they could only have betas or omegas?” 

She shakes her head. “If they have a really _really_ strong Alpha somewhere deep in their lineage, then sometimes. Sometimes they do. And boy oh boy do they regret it.” 

Ian does laugh, then. He takes a deep breath, and she smiles. “Good,” she says. “There you go. You’re coming around again.” 

Ian swallows. “I still want to know about it,” he says. “That club. Is that where–” he says. “Is that where you’ve tried to find someone?” 

She pauses, but nods. “It’s kind of off-putting and weird there though,” she says. “The pheromones are out of control. You can’t really zoom in on someone. Some people don’t care who they get with as long as it’s an omega or Alpha. There’s betas mixed in, but it’s more an Alpha and omega thing. Or if betas are into that.” He sighs. “It’s just really in your face there. Some people really get off on that. Like, a sea of people. Possibility. Cherry-picking. I’m more a find-someone’s-scent-in-a-crowd type of person. I have too much trouble in places like that. My Alpha can’t think right. I think I’m more into the hunt.” She pauses. “I just gotta call it a hunt, because honestly, that’s how it feels.” 

He nods. “What else is it like? The club?”

“It’s just...normal.” She breathes in deeply and lets out a sigh. “People dancing and drinking and everything else,” she says. “It would be like a regular club if it wasn’t for all the other stuff around. The bathroom stalls are gigantic, and it’s no question why. It’s hard for me to be there sometimes just from a medical standpoint, I guess. Some people are obviously off meds or taking lower doses than they should. Otherwise it wouldn’t be the sex lair it is. Lots of dilated eyes in that place, and it’s not because of the light. I mean, it’s not like I’ve been a saint there, but now I only go with a couple friends. I basically just sit at the bar and turn girls down and kind of swat people away until my friends are ready to leave.”

He laughs. 

She flips him off. 

“So you weren’t a saint,” he says. “So you’ve–” 

She covers her face with her hands and groans. “Twice in the bathroom, once in the alley, once in a stairwell, twice in a car.” 

“The same girl?” 

She wipes her hands on her face. “No.” 

“A _stair_ well?” 

“Urrghhh,” she says, nodding from behind her hands. “We don't need to talk about it.”

He chuckles, but then stops when he realizes what it really was. What she was trying to erase, forget, get over. How she said no one smelled like her. 

He feels it. The link. “Yes,” she says. “That’s why I did it. I was trying to move on, but I couldn’t. Nobody smells like Clara.” She does a sharp intake of breath after saying her name, eyes wide, covering her mouth. “Shit shit shit.” 

Ian lowers his voice, as if someone could hear them. “I won’t,” he says. “I won’t tell anyone.” 

“I’d get fucking fired,” she says. “Or worse. They could put me in jail for this. I’m putting you in danger, even.” 

He frowns. “No you’re not.” 

“I am,” she says quickly. “You just don't know it. Fuck. Okay.” She stands up and smoothes her jacket. “I’ve gotta go. Your meds,” she says. “They’re ready. Let’s go get them and get you out of here.” 

“Wait,” he says. “That’s it? ”He sets the pillow aside and starts to follow her to the door. “That's all you're going to say to me?”

She pauses. She turns slowly. She sweeps her eyes over his. 

“I wanted to give you this,” she says. She puts her hand in her pocket and takes out a white rectangle. It’s a thick little card. He looks down at it. There isn’t anything written on it. He turns it over. There isn’t anything on the other side, either. He frowns and drags his fingertip over both sides, trying to find a ridge or something. It’s smooth. Nothing. 

“What is it?” 

“It’s how to find me,” she says. “If you need me. Because otherwise I won’t see you again.” 

He looks up at her and gestures with the card. “But I don’t see anything.” 

She nods. “It’s hard to find out how to read it,” she says. “But once you do, you’ll see my phone number and a symbol. It’s my cell phone. No one knows it here. It’s secured. Almost no one knows these cards exist.” She stares at it in his hand. “It’s strong,” she says. “Try and rip it.” 

He does, and it barely bends at all, let alone rip. “But how–” 

She shakes her head. “I can’t tell you. You’re smart, though. You’ll figure it out.” 

He doesn’t know what to do, but he nods. “Um,” he says, but that’s all he manages. He tries to link her, but he hits a block. She shakes her head. He’s about to say something else, but then the door opens again, the room bright and harsh and clean. 

*

When he walks out of the hospital, he holds a bag of five medications. They have fancy names, but Ian knew what they really mean. Strength stabilizers to weaken him. Mood stabilizers to keep him at an even keel and cancel out agitation. Alpha tranquilizer (ok fine, sedative) if he felt like he couldn’t sleep. Alphas didn’t like to sleep. Almost never, if they could swing it. 

The final two are the ones that Ian is interested in the most. One is an inhaler meant to stop him from forming a a knot. Soon he might be able to control it, but before that, he should carry it everywhere. He got eyedrops, which the doctor stressed were very important to his safety. The eyedrops can prevent his eyes from dilating, whether all the way, or slightly. Both are an obvious giveaway. They stung. He flinches when he tries to drip them into his eyes for the first time, head back, bottle poised. Some falls on his cheek and turns it numb. The drops make his eyes feel tight. 

He has a sheet of paper with an Alpha counseling service and emergency services. He doesn’t know what to do with it. He shoves it in his sock drawer. He hides Elizabeth’s card. He’s terrified he’ll lose it or someone will throw it away. He makes a little paper pouch for it and ends up taking out the sock drawer, turning it over, and carefully taping it to the underside. He’s too scared to put tape directly on it. He doesn’t know what to do. To read the card. He googles, but you can't quite google _how to read a blank card given to you by a renegade member of the government_ without some security algorithm catching on. He puts lemon juice on it. Nothing. He buys a black light bulb. Nothing. He pays a cover charge to go into a club for a few minutes so he can try and find it under the different lights. Nothing. 

Sometimes he pulls out the drawer just to see if it’s still there, as if it is a ticking bomb that will implode and disappear if he doesn’t crack the code fast enough. 

*

He wakes up early. Today is the day he’s going back to school. The day he is let loose from his house.

It’s perfect timing. 

He smells him.

It’s another gasp when he wakes up. His nostrils are flaring. He’s instantly hard. It’s so much like Reveal, and he doesn’t know what to do. He reaches for his meds. The mood stabilizer, the relaxant. He shoves them in his mouth and swallows them. 

He considers jacking off, but reaches for the inhaler instead. It’s supposed to be for the knot, but apparently helps with erections in general. He puffs it into his mouth twice and breathes deeply. 

He can hardly pull his shoes on fast enough. He runs. He runs fast. At first he runs in the direction of Mickey’s house, but Ian keeps getting pulled in the direction of school. He loses the scent the faster he runs to Mickey’s house. Finally, he gives up and turns back. He lost him. He sighs and heads for the el. It doesn’t hit him until he is on the train that he could easily have run to school. 

The smell on the train is strange but mostly unremarkable. He make out faint scents from some of the people. Mostly women. He thinks of Elizabeth saying there are more female omegas than male omegas. So they must be omegas? They must be. Their scents are weakly pleasant, but nothing that drives him. At the next stop, a man steps onto the train and almost immediately they are staring at each other. Alpha. Ian doesn’t realize it, but he has stood up from his seat and is now holding onto the metal pole by the door. He stares. They both stare. The other Alpha isn’t gay. He doesn’t know how he knows that, but he does. The longer and harder Ian looks at him, the smaller the man seems. Suddenly, the other Alpha looks away, down at the floor, and when the train stops he rushes out of the train car. Ian feels a smirk on his face. 

He watches the city roll by as he approaches his stop. He thinks of all the people on the street. Alphas. Omegas. Betas. Out there, just everywhere. The doors open and he slides out. 

It is almost immediate. So immediate that it nearly knocks him down. Mickey. Now that the scent confusion of the train car is over, there is only Mickey. He rushes down the stairs and dashes toward the school. 

He’s running late, but once he opens the doors, everyone in the hallway stills and looks at him. He can still hear loud voices further down the hall, on the other floors too. He can hear so much. No one moves. He swallows.

This happens sometimes, he knows. The stares. The excitement. He is supposed to keep his head high, roll back his shoulders, chest out. Walk like an Alpha. But he feels singled out, alone, put on display. But still. He catches himself looking at other boys in the hallway, ones that now he can immediately identify as another Alpha. There is an understanding and a wary agreement there, some sort of trait that no medication can cover. Acknowledgement with a warning pressed inside it. He sees one of the Alphas look away and bow his head as soon as Ian looks at him, and Ian feels a swell of confidence out of nowhere. He feels another smirk.

The hallway starts to clear out, and Ian lets out a deep breath. His hands find the straps of his backpack and he walks slower. A group of Betas make their way around the corner, chatting, only pausing briefly when they see him. That’s when the smell overtakes him. That’s when he sees him. All the way down the hall, just standing there. Mouth open. Ian freezes. He swallows. 

He clears his throat. “Hey, Mickey.” 

Mickey doesn’t say anything. His shirt has the sleeves cut off, and the smell of him is stronger because his armpits are exposed. Ian inhales hard. He can feel his eyes, just a little. He pants and tries to hold it back. 

Ian swallows. “Um,” Ian says. He starts to move closer. He doesn’t feel himself stepping closer to him, but he does. He feels his nostrils flare. He watches Mickey shift his feet. He watches Mickey’s eyes race around the hallway. He’s still moving toward him. Mickey is closer and closer. “Hi,” he says again. 

For a minute, he is sure Mickey understands. Maybe even feels the same way. There’s something in his face. A confusion, maybe fear. He backs away until his back hit the wall. Ian can feel himself stepping closer, closer still. His feet move without him. He’s getting closer. Closer. 

“Fuck off,” Mickey says. He turns, and he’s gone. 

*

Ian can hardly keep still. He fidgets in his seat and can’t concentrate. The teacher is an Alpha. A weak one, but Ian can tell now. The teacher looks at him from time to time, but looks away just as quickly. Ian can feel all the eyes on him. 

“The Waste Land,” the teacher says in a booming voice. "Published in 1922 by one Mr. T.S. Eliot. Mr. Eliot was gracious enough to break this long form poem into five sections. We are going to work backwards. I would like you to look at the final portion. Part five.” He pauses. “That’s the part that looks like a V. The part entitled What The Thunder Said.” 

Ian looks out the window. He’s always liked the word thunder. He wishes it was raining. It feels like it should be raining. The fall is already winding down. Soon it will be winter. Cold. Ice. Snow, not rain. 

“Ian,” the teacher says, and his head snaps forward. “Can you read the fourth stanza of part five aloud to the class? Do you remember what a stanza is?”

Ian sits up in his seat and clears his throat. “Yeah. Um, sure.” He sniffs the air. He pauses and finds his place. The smell is stronger. The classroom door is open, and when he turns his head, Mickey is there, standing there, back against the lockers. Looking at him. “Um,” he says. “Um.” Mickey crosses his arms. There’s a look on his face that Ian can’t read. 

“Mr Gallagher,” the teacher says, and Ian can hear the teacher’s Alpha. Weak, but there. 

“Sorry,” Ian says. “Um.” 

He glances quickly toward Mickey before looking down and finding the portion to read. 

“Who is the third who always walks beside you?  
When I count, there is only you and I together  
But when I look ahead up the white road  
There is always another one walking beside you  
Gliding wrapt on a brown mantle, hooded  
I do not know whether a man or a woman  
–But who is that on the other side of you?” 

There is a stillness. Ian slowly looks up from his paper and lets his eyes drift to the corners, then more pointedly into the hallway, and he sees Mickey standing there with raised eyebrows.

“What is that stanza about? What does it communicate to the reader?”

Ian turns his forward head again. “Uh, I'm not sure.”

He feels a kick behind him. Mandy. Maybe Mickey wasn't even looking at him. Maybe he was looking at Mandy the whole time.

She kicks at his heels again.

“Maybe it's like…”

“Maybe T.S. Eliot was kinda gay or something,” Mandy interrupts. He can hear her smile. “Or like maybe it’s about someone that's into another person, but doesn't know it yet?”

The teacher nods, just a little. “Well, that's plausible,” he says. “Some scholars believe when he was talking about the unknown figure being man or woman, he was trying to express a genderless being. A force. They did not have specific language for concepts of non-binary at the time.”

“But who's the person on the road then?” Mandy asks.

Ian swallows and looks out the door again. He's still standing there. “Maybe like, the Alpha and Omega? Like as one person? The combination?”

“That's betaist,” someone grumbles. 

Ian looks over his shoulder. “I'm sorry,” he says to the guy in the front row. “I didn't mean it like that. Sorry.” The guy rolls his eyes but doesn't say anything else.

“We are onto something,” the teacher says. “Although T. S. Eliot never directly explained his inspiration for much of the poem, it is a theory that it is exactly that, Ian. The figure being its own entity. Some think it is actually talking about Reveal, or perhaps the first meeting of two distinctly strong compatible people.”

“First meeting like sex?” someone says, and there is scattered laughter. 

“Well,” the teacher says carefully. “It could be taken that way, I suppose.” 

“Compatible?” Ian asks. “What do you mean?” 

“There will be more information in your Reveal books. All I can say is that even with our treatments, we may still be drawn to certain people. Our biology is our biology. Complete eradication of our traits is impossible. We can still find a partner that is compatible. It is instinct. The scientists still aren’t sure how that pushes through, but it does.” 

“So how do we know, then?” Ian asks. “When we find the person?” 

“I’m not sure I can answer that,” the teacher says. “You can talk to the a/b/o school counselor if you’re interested.”

He looks into the hall again. Mickey’s eyes are wide. “So we just know?” Ian says. Mickey looks down at the floor. 

No one answers. 

Mickey begins to turn, and Ian can hear him walking down the hallway. His steps sound loud. Ian doesn’t know if they are really loud or if he can somehow hear him differently. 

“Are you distracted, Mr. Gallagher?” The teacher says. He crosses over to the door and closes it. 

“Sorry,” Ian says quickly. “I’m not–I’m.” 

The door closes. Mandy kicks him in the heel again. He stares down at his book. In a little while, the bell rings. 

*

The next day, Mickey is gone. And the next. And the next. He asks Mandy in the hall, and she shrugs it off. “Got picked up,” she says. “Broke probation. He’ll probably be out in a month or two.”

Play it cool. _The things Alphas gotta play cool, Ian, Jesus!_ “What did he do?”

She shrugs. “Got in a fight and then tried to punch a cop.” 

He opens and closes his mouth. “But how come he,” he says. “I mean, why would he do that?”

Mandy doesn't say anything. She pulls on her ponytail. 

“Cause like,” he begins. “Wouldn't he know that was risky? And he could be sent back? I don't get it. Why would-”

“What do you care?” 

Ian shrugs. “Just wondering.”

She doesn't say anything for a minute. “We should go to a club for your birthday,” she says. 

Ian almost tells her about the secret place, but there's no use. It's not like he knows, and he still can't figure out how to read Elizabeth’s card. There are other places anyway. “Sure,” he says. “Where?”

Mandy sighs. “Somewhere gay. I'm so done with everyone else.”

*

The club was nice enough. Nothing special. The bathrooms weren't very big, but it was big enough. The guy was shorter than he was. Another redhead, which felt weird. Omega.Too quiet. He didn't really smell like anything. The only time he said anything is when he begged for Ian to knot him, but even though he tried to, tried to will it, nothing happened. His Alpha seemed be yawning, completely uninterested and sleeping somewhere. When the guy came, Ian was relieved. He had to think about Mickey to finish. 

Mickey.

Fall quickly gives way to winter. Thanksgiving. Then Christmas. New Year’s. He celebrates by fucking Kash, the guy at the convenience store. He's an beta married to a beta. A strong female beta. He says she knows about the two of them. They've been fucking off and on for almost two years. He was too young, then. He knows it now. Kash is older, and although Ian liked it at first- liked _him_ -it now a matter of habit. He’s able to knot him, and it's pretty good. Most times he's into it. Kash smells familiar. He expected the first time after Reveal to be better somehow. Expected Kash to smell different. Feel different. But it was the way it always was. Cold from fucking in the walk-in fridge, clothes half on. Brief. Mostly uneventful. Even though he knots him, he doesn't stay locked for long. He’s glad. 

It's not like he doesn't want to have sex. Of course he does. Of course his Alpha does. But it feels exactly like Elizabeth said. Someone smells right. Intoxicating. And other people just don't. _They don't smell like Clara._

They don't smell like Mickey. 

He quits fucking guys at the club. Betas are starting to crowd around him when he goes. He lets guys blow him instead. Omegas like that. It feels good. Great, even. He doesn't reciprocate, which on some level he feels bad about. But they take care of themselves with no complaint. He’s a gay male Alpha in a sea of betas, a few omegas. He's supposed to act greedy. It's expected. But he doesn't feel greedy. He feels bored. Lost. He is Elizabeth, trying to bury the scent beneath the bodies of other people. That's what he's doing. He's tired. He can't. Not anymore. Because of him.

Mickey.

*

“What does it feel like?” 

They are in the dark. Lip came home and is spending the night. It’s been a while since they talked like this. Quietly. Carl and Liam snoring softly. 

“What does what feel like?” 

“Like, what does it feel like when you connect with someone? When they feel right?” 

“I don’t know,” Lip says. “I thought you were busy just fucking around."

“Yeah, but,” Ian says. “Yeah, but it’s not like I really...feel anything. I mean, of course I feel _that_ , but it’s not really all that good. When I’m doing it, I just think about,” he swallows. “Mickey. You know.” 

“You should forget that as soon as fucking possible. There’s no way Mickey Milkovich will ever do anything with a guy, let alone gay Alpha,” Lip says. “He’s stuffed to the gills with drugs. Everyone thinks he’s a beta. I can’t smell him at all. Not even the slightest bit.” 

Ian breathes out. “That’s impossible,” she says. “He smells. Not like _smells_ smells. But if he’s around, that’s all I can pick out. It’s like the only thing I can smell. And hear, too. Is it normal to be able to hear someone really loud? Like the way they walk and stuff?”

“Damn,” Lip says. Ian can picture his face in the dark. “I don’t know. I haven’t felt like that. Isn’t it in your book? It sounds like you haven’t read anything.” 

“I did,” Ian says. “I just–I don’t understand some of it. I feel like there isn’t all the stuff I need in there. I need to know more.”

“There’s a thing called google,” Lip says. 

“Shut up,” Ian says. His voice is deep. 

Lip laughs. “Put that voice away,” he says. 

Ian swallows, clears his throat. “I just don’t get it. I feel like he could see me. Really see me. I felt like we could see each other. Like that. Way deep inside. I feel like I could never block him if he wanted to really see me.” 

“He still in juvie?” 

“Yeah,” Ian says. “I thought he’d be out by now, but I guess not.” 

There’s a pause. Ian can hear the el. 

“You’ll be able to tell,” Lip says. “If he’s really compatible to you. If it’s like you think. The second he gets out, you should be able to smell him. That’s what they say. That you’d be able to smell him even if he’s pretty far away. Not like 60 miles away, but pretty far.” 

“Then what?” Ian says. “What am I supposed to do?” 

“I guess go see him,” Lip says. 

“In juvie? I don’t think I even can.” 

“You probably could if you wanted to. I think Alphas need special clearance from a doctor or something though. They have a special juvie for Alphas, remember?” 

“Maybe,” he says. Something inside him flutters at the thought. “I don’t think he’s coming back to school. Mandy said.” 

“Well, I guess you’ll have to see him somewhere else. Or just chill and let him come to you. But we both know he’d rather be thrown in juvie again than admit he wants you to fuck him.” 

“I guess you’re right,” Ian says. He breathes in and out. “But I keep reading about how staying apart can get like, painful? Like if it’s really really real, it has to happen or you get sick? Like so sick that if you could die?”

“They’re experimenting with drugs to stop it, but yeah, that sometimes happens.” 

Ian shakes his head. His pillow feels too hot. He turns it over. “I keep reading about it. It doesn’t make sense. How will we know for sure? What’s it supposed to be like?”

Lip sits up in bed. He can see his figure. “If it’s real,” he says. “You guys would be like magnets. Or like a mirror reflecting back and forth. So close that you’ll fit together tightly. Tight enough that it would be almost impossible to stay away from each other. You'd get stuck together.” 

“A mirror?” 

“Yeah,” Lip says. “Or maybe photography? I mean the ones with film. The negatives? How it is contrasted? Dark becomes light and light becomes dark? It’s connecting like that. Complementary.” 

“Oh,” Ian says evenly. “Okay.” 

They are quiet. Ian tries to quiet his mind. It’s been racing lately. Too much. His book said it’s a sign that his meds aren’t right. He should not feel agitated like this. Stabilizers, the book says. His stabilizers are off. He’s been having trouble sleeping, too. But he doesn’t want to up his sedative dosage. He breathes in and out. He’ll look at his paper in his sock drawer tomorrow. There’s the name of a counselor and the name of a med clinic. He’ll give them a call tomorrow. Elizabeth said–

“Holy shit,” Ian breathes. 

“What?”

“Holy _shit_ ,” he says again. He snaps the light on and squints at the brightness. He rises and yanks the drawer out of his dresser.

“What the fuck?” 

All the socks fall out, and the paper flutters to the floor. His hands fumble as he turns the drawer over. He forces his hands to slow down as he carefully takes the tape off. His fingers shake as he carefully removes Elizabeth’s card. 

“Does school have a darkroom?” 

“ _That_ ghetto high school? Fuck no. I bet they do up north though. Rich people like artistic bougie bullshit. Why?” 

Ian is breathing hard, eyes wide. “Do you think you could get us in? They’d probably have a key, right? But do you think you could?” 

“Probably. Why?” 

He stares down at the card. “I’m not sure yet,” he says. “But if I figure this out, I think I know someone who could help me.” 

*

He doesn’t sleep. Not really. There is excitement about the card. But there’s something else. He’s so restless. He swallows another one of his sleeping pills, but nothing happens. His mind races. He gets out of bed. He checks his phone. It’s 3 a.m. He goes into the bathroom and stares at himself in the mirror. He’s sweating. What the fuck is wrong with him? 

He gets back in bed. He breathes in and out. His limbs jerk. He’s still sweating. He throws the covers off him and gets out of bed again. Fuck this. 

The couch is terribly lumpy and smells bad, but it feels oddly more comfortable. He dozes off, jerking awake a few times. He finally falls asleep just as the sky begins to lighten, just the barest light, just the soft blue that rises from black, bit by bit. He felt himself sinking, bit by bit, listening to the clock tick. Then nothingness. 

He gasps. Everything is light. Sunlight. Morning. He can’t breathe. He sits up straight, heart pounding. He makes a sound. He can’t tell what sound it is. If it is a gasp, a roar, a word. It is enough that Debbie sticks her head out from the kitchen. “You alright? What’s wrong?” 

“He’s back,” Ian pants. “I can feel him. Smell him. He’s back.” 

“Who’s back?” 

Ian throws the blanket off him, but then grabs at it again when he realizes how hard he is. “I gotta,” he says, fumbling with the blanket around him. “I gotta get to school. I’m–” he says, but he doesn’t finish. He runs upstairs. Clothes. Socks. Shoes. Coat. Fuck.

They let him out. From juvie. He’s back. 

Mickey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're gonna get there stat. Don't worry. Chapter 3 is almost done. (pours gasoline on fire)


	3. I Know What You Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian struggles to understand the finer points of his strengths and weaknesses.

He came back to school. Mandy says it won’t be long. He fronted some coke before he went in. 

Time to collect. 

Ian hasn’t seen him yet, but he can smell him. He feels like he can smell him everywhere. 

The medication in the inhaler tastes bitter and metallic. It splashes against his tongue as he breathes in. When he has to use his inhaler, he does it discreetly, in a bathroom stall. Some male Alphas will do it out in the open, as if to brag that their erections are raging, as if someone wouldn’t be able to tell. 

He hasn’t needed it for the knot. He has barely been able to knot anyone. The furthest he’s gotten is knotting Kash. It didn’t really seem like that big of a deal. He didn’t widen at the base as much as he has when he masturbates, and thickening at his base masturbating isn’t even forming a proper Alpha knot. What he felt with Kash could barely even be called a knot, especially how quickly it deflated after he came. He didn’t get locked so long that he came more than once. That’s what knotting is for, right? To bind them together, hold them together, stick them together so the Alpha can come a few times? For the omega’s pleasure? 

That hasn’t happened to him. 

He shakes the inhaler and puffs it back into his mouth another two times. He can feel himself softening in his pants. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and breathes deeply, counting in 1 2 3 4 and out 1 2 3 4. He still feels jumpy. He wonders why he couldn’t sleep. Was it because of Mickey? Did his body somehow know that Mickey was going to get out of juvie? Was it just too excited to sleep, too restless? Was _Mickey_ too excited to sleep, too restless? 

Were they doing whatever the equivalent of linking with Elizabeth is? Is that a thing? The book says the draw between a compatible Alpha and omega can be anything between a slow and creeping pull to an extremely fast crash. Even with the medications, the compatible couple will find a way to be together, or at least grow close enough that staying apart becomes increasingly difficult. 

The part in the book about getting sick if you didn’t connect with your omega made him so afraid. Death, even? He would try and think of that objectively. How would that even be possible? Especially with meds? Lip did say they were trying to develop medication to stop it. But it still happened, right? The possibility of such a thing was swept under the rug, most of the time. But sometimes there would be a news story about a rash of deaths. It would usually talk about how the Alphas (it was almost always Alphas that died) or omega weren’t taking the proper medications. The right dosages. Sometimes the articles said that it happened because the Alphas were not being compliant or didn’t take their status seriously. Like they refused to help themselves in some way. 

Like it was their fault. As if they chose this. Who they are. 

Why were the deaths almost always Alphas? No one knew. Not really. The science community believes it has something to do with the increased production of adrenaline, but no one knows for sure. They just die. There are just as many stories of quiet, reserved Alphas who are more than compliant as there are about very strong Alphas who refused treatment. 

The only common denominator was that they had a compatible omega in their life, whether they knew it or not, and for whatever reason, it didn’t work out. Being drawn to someone, so strongly, was at the root. It’s not about soulmates. It’s not like that. There are people all over the world that would be compatible. It’s just like anyone else. 

But when someone was there. Really there. There they were. Ignoring the pull was like chopping off a limb, like running underwater, like rocks on the eyelids. People in hiding, people who stuffed themselves full of medications, too many medications, could try and shove it away. That is what makes sense to Ian. That denying it was all happening is what made them break apart. 

Elizabeth doesn’t deny it. He thinks about Clara, out there somewhere. Did she marry that guy from college? That Alpha? The one who made Elizabeth gag when she smelled him? In her house? On her? She said she’d know. She’d know if she came back. But what if Clara came back but smelled different? Would she still be able to smell her? Through the rest of it? The block of the other Alpha? If she could, would Elizabeth still want her? Would Clara - could Clara - still want her back? Is it even possible to want to bond with more than one person? He doesn’t know these answers. He barely knows the questions. 

Ian shoves the inhaler into the front compartment of his backpack. He’s soft enough now to head out into the hallway. He tries to ignore the smell of Mickey. It’s impossible, but he tries. The bell is sounding, but he ignores that too. He follows Mickey’s scent to a staircase, but as he begins to climb, the scent begins to fade. He stops on the landing and closes his eyes. He feels his nostrils flare. 

Before he knows what is happening, he is running fast down the stairs, all the way down to the lower level. The scent is heavier by the exit door. He takes a deep breath and pushes it open. 

He looks around quickly, eyes searching for anything out there in the white. There. There’s a shape under the bleachers. He can’t see who it is. He can’t smell anything. Only snow. He crosses his arms against a shiver and steps closer. He wishes he had his coat. The snow crunches under his shoes. As he gets closer, he can see him. It’s really him. 

Mickey.

He doesn’t have to say his name. As he gets closer, Mickey spins around. His eyes are wide. “The fuck are you doin’ out here.” 

Ian swallows. “Just...I guess I wanted some air?” 

Mickey takes a deep drag of his cigarette. The smoke in the air is indistinguishable from the cold. “You wanted some air and didn’t bring a fuckin’ coat?” 

Ian stares at him, but doesn’t say anything. 

“What the fuck are you lookin’ at?” His eyes get almost wider. His hand shakes as he brings the cigarette to his lips again. Ian can see it. See it shake. It’s not the cold. It can’t be.

Ian breathes out into the cold and takes a step closer. “You.” 

“Lookin’ at me what? Why?” 

Ian stares. 

“Stop looking at me.” He throws the cigarette in the snow. It would be a threat. It would be a threat like Mickey Milkovich is known for. “I mean it, stop it.” 

Ian doesn’t. He feels the corner of his lip curl up. “You sure?” 

He doesn’t know where it came from. That voice. Those words. If it was another moment, another day, it would almost scare him how forward he is. But he can feel that. The way he would be. The Before. But this is now.

Mickey doesn’t say anything. He jams his hands into his pockets. He doesn’t look away. He seems like he wants to, but he doesn’t. His eyes are still so wide. Ian wonders how they could stay this wide in the cold without tearing up. 

“I’m gonna go inside,” Ian says. “You coming?” 

Mickey hesitates. He looks at his feet, bows his head. _Fuck, is he bowing his head? Omega?_ He kicks at the snow. _No, Ian thinks. It’s not that. It can’t be._

“I’m gonna go,” Ian says, squeezing at his cold arms. His flannel shirt is thin from so many washings, the wrists exposed from wearing it too many years in a row. “Come with me.” 

Ian steps backward, walks backward. He doesn’t care if he falls. He wants to see if Mickey does it. 

He does. Mickey slowly puts one foot in front of the other, walking close and closer. Ian stops, but Mickey keeps moving. He raises his head, and the wide eyes are replaced with something else. He has his teeth clenched, and his eyes have a squint to them. He seems to be annoyed that he’s doing this. Following Ian. Maybe even his omega being pulled along by the suggestions of Ian’s Alpha. It can sound like an order, sometimes. He doesn’t mean it as an order, but he’s glad Mickey is walking with him. 

“It’s cold,” Mickey mumbles. “Already sick of the fucking cold.” 

“I know,” Ian says. He waits for Mickey to catch up. “Me too.” 

Mickey doesn’t say anything. He falls in step next to Ian, and soon they reach the door again. Ian opens it, holds the door open for Mickey, and as soon as they step inside, something shifts. Mickey stops moving. He looks at Ian’s face. His cheeks are flushed with cold, a small shudder and roll of the shoulders from being in the snow so long. His eyes are wide again. He bites his lip. 

He smells incredible. 

God, Ian wishes he had his inhaler right now. 

Or does he? Does he? Because Mickey looks down and stomps his feet on the wide mat, shaking off the snow. As he begins to look up, his eyes obviously catch on Ian’s erection. 

“What the fuck?” It’s a breath, almost a whisper, almost amazed. He’s panting, panting hard. It can’t just be from the cold. It just can’t be.

Ian takes a small step forward. “Mickey,” he says. There is a tiny pulling feeling in his eyes. Shit. Shit. “I wanted to talk to you. I wanted–”

Mickey clenches his teeth. “What’s–why the fuck your eyes–” But his mouth drops open, and his eyes race around. Ian can smell him, smell the scent suddenly get deeper, much deeper. “Why the fuck are you–” 

“You know why,” Ian says under his breath. 

It’s barely out of his mouth before Mickey shoves him backward. “What the _fuck_ are you talkin’ about.” 

Ian stares at him. Breathes. 

“Fuck you,” Mickey pushes him harder. He backs away. Spits on the rug. “Fuckin’ Alpha faggot.” 

He doesn’t run down the hall. Not exactly. But he pushes past Ian and quickly disappears around the corner. Ian stays there, catching his breath. 

When he walks into the hall again, there’s a guy standing at his locker. Ian’s seen him before. Alpha. He doesn’t exactly remember his name. Maybe Jack? Josh? But he’s an Alpha. Plain as day, Ian can feel it. But he’s not as strong as Ian. His locker is open and he’s looking at the direction where Mickey went. He catches Ian’s eye and chuckles, eyebrow raised, as he closes his locker. 

It’s so fast. He doesn’t even know what he’s doing. He hears a gasp from the guy, whatever his name is, and hears the sharp bang of the guy’s body slamming against the locker. Ian hears his squeezed out breath, saying words Ian can’t understand, and Ian’s fingers fist hard in his shirt. He feels himself grow taller. Suddenly. He is. He really is. Rage response. He feels his hand pull harder on the guy’s shirt and hears that bang again, the bang of the guy’s back against the locker, over and over. His eyes hurt all of a sudden, and he hears a loud growl, almost a gnash of teeth. Is it him? The guy? No, it’s himself. _Bang_ he hears again. _Bang. Bang._

He hears another voice. He feels someone pulling against his arm. The guy against the locker falls to the floor, panting hard. Ian sees a teacher taking his arm, helping him to his feet. The grip around his arm tightens. Ian can hear a thick sound in his ears. Rhythmic. It’s his heart. His heartbeat. 

“Alarm,” someone says, and it makes Ian snap back into his body. “211.” The Alpha emergency number. It cuts through the thick sound in his ears. He slows his breathing. He begins to hear the alarm, each tone clearly. Fuck. They’re locking the school down. Because of this. Him.

“Wait,” Ian says quickly. “Wait wait wait.” He glances over at the teacher - oh, it’s a teacher. His math teacher. “Wait,” Ian pleads. His eyes begin to burn. Tears? Confused. He’s lost himself. Where did he go? “I don’t–” he says quickly. “Please. I don’t have to go to the hospital, okay? I’m sorry. I just. I’m really sorry.” He stares at _John maybe?_ “Are you okay? Are you hurt? I didn’t mean to–”

The guy breathes hard but waves it off. “Please,” the guy says, eyes turning from teacher to teacher. “Shut it off. It’s fine. We’re fine. He’s fine.” 

Ian sees the other teacher, who slowly–so slowly–comes into clear focus. The spanish teacher. The teacher reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small oval remote. He presses a button and the alarm silences. Ian can hear a sharp sound echoing all around him. All the doors automatically unlocking.

His body immediately relaxes. His math teacher slowly takes his hand off his arm. But Ian immediately sees that he’s holding a tranq gun. Ian recoils until he puts it back into his pocket. Fuck that was close. 

“Do we need to bring you downstairs and talk this over? Or can you go back to your corners?” 

The guy shakes his head. “It’s fine. We’re okay.” He pointedly looks at Ian. What is that? Is he. Oh fuck. Fuck. He almost has a smirk on his face. Suddenly, Ian can feel it. Mickey. He wants Mickey. This guy does. Somehow. He either wants to fuck Mickey, or wants to tell about Mickey. Mickey’s omega. The truth. “We’re okay, right?” 

Ian tries to steady himself. “We’re okay.” He tries to unlock his gaze from the Alpha’s eyes. He knows he’ll start fighting him again if he doesn’t. 

“Come into class,” the math teacher says. 

“Aren’t I–” Ian says. “Aren’t I in a different class right now?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” he says sternly. Alpha. “I said get into my classroom. Right now. This is over.” 

They are pulled away from each other. _Jack_ Ian thinks, brain clearing. “It _is_ Jack. Jack Malecki. That’s the guy’s name. 

Jack looks over his shoulder. He’ll have a large bruise on his back, probably, especially if he’s weak. Ian hopes he is weak. Good. Jack looks afraid, just for a minute, but then his smirk returns. 

Mickey. 

Ian’s hand clenches when he enters the classroom, but he tries not to let it show. This is so far from over it’s not even funny. 

It’s not funny. That smirk. 

This isn’t over. 

He needs Elizabeth. Fast. She knows him. Really knows him. Links. She’ll know what to do. She’ll know what to do about all of it.

This isn’t over.

*

There’s a YouTube tutorial for basically anything you’d want to do, and he’s never felt so grateful for it. He watches the video again in Lip’s car on the way to Northside Prep. If the room isn’t all set up, it might be hard to get all the chemicals in the right places, but from there it seems easy enough. He holds Elizabeth’s card in this hand. God, he hopes this works. 

“Okay,” Lip says. “I’m gonna go in first. Check out the security situation.” He reaches back for his wallet and pulls out two I.D. cards. He gives one to Ian. “I’ll text you what to do when I get in.” 

“O-okay,” Ian stammers. “You think this is gonna work?” 

Lip looks around at the other students filing in. They were were able to approximate uniforms on the lower half and Lip swapped some good weed for a couple of uniform shirts and sweaters for the upper half. He already met them in a Starbucks parking lot this morning to exchange. Ian’s shirt and sweater are too short in the arms, but Lip says if he keeps his coat on or keeps his hands in his pockets, he’ll be okay. 

“I hope it’ll work,” Lip says. “As long as those guys don’t snitch. I told ‘em they’d get more weed dropped if they told us where the darkroom is and figured out when it would be free.” He pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket. There’s the time. 8:45-10:15. Level 1, E Wing, number 118. A warning that a ceramics class is diagonal to the darkroom. 

Ian looks down at the paper again. He tries to steady his breathing. “What if the card gets wrecked? Then I’ll never be able to find her.” 

“You said you put lemon juice on it. Did it get wrecked?” 

“No.” 

“There you go,” Lip says. He looks over at him and takes a breath. He shuts the car off. “Check your phone.” 

Ian’s head tips back against the headrest. The card is smooth in his hands. He breathes in deeply and waits.

Part of him wishes he hadn’t school today. Yesterday was so fucked. The conversation with Mickey. The fight with Jack. He can hardly think about the fight without tensing up. He wishes he knew what exactly Jack was thinking. He still can’t tell. It felt like both, kind of. He wanted to fuck Mickey and then tell everyone about it. Did he? Maybe. But one thing is certain; Ian is _not_ going to let that happen. Any of it.

His Alpha is willing to fight for Mickey. He wants to protect him. Keep him safe. This is what they talk about in the book. Even if there isn’t a bond, or even a mutual attraction, Alphas often feel driven to protect an omega at all costs. It can be only one omega or several. Like Lip said, he wants to protect him, not stand by and let him be outed. Ian will not stand for this. There’s no way. 

He tosses the card up and down in his hands and thinks. What is Mickey thinking about today? What is he doing? He smells the air. He doesn’t smell anything but himself and Lip. He looks over at his phone. As if by magic, it buzzes. 

_Metal detector. ID check. Walk straight ahead toward the left staircase. Take it down one level and go to the right. Walk slowly so you don’t draw attention. Last door on the left. 118._

Ian takes a deep breath. He pulls out his keys and rummages for anything else metal in his bag. Nothing. He thinks twice and takes out his Alpha ID book. He shoves it under the seat with his keys and opens the door. 

Once inside, he steps through the metal detector and shows the guard his ID. The guard gives Ian a second glance, holds the photo up. Ian tries to relax. He hopes it doesn’t show.

“You’re really a beta?” The guard squints at the card. 

“Yeah,” Ian says quickly.

“Do you have your driver’s license or your beta ID card on you?” 

“Um,” he says. “I don’t drive? I don’t have a car I mean. So I usually don’t carry it.”

The guard looks at the ID again. “You _are_ aware you’re supposed to carry at least one government issued beta card with you at all times, aren’t you?” 

“Ye-yes sir,” he stammers. “I will. I’ll remember tomorrow.” 

The guard looks long and hard at him. “Will you come with me please?” 

Ian tries to breathe, but it’s hard. The guard gestures to the right, a small partition with a chair squeezed into the tiny space. “Have a seat here. I’ll be right back.” His eyes flash black, once. He blinks and they immediately go back to normal. “Don’t. Move.” 

Ian nods. Fuck. _Fuck._ Why didn’t he give Lip Elizabeth’s card? He should have known something like this would happen to him. Fuck. Why didn’t he take extra drugs today? Sure, it might have made him groggy, but he knows his meds aren’t right. He knows it. He knows he’s supposed to go to the clinic. But he hasn’t. He’s been consumed with Mickey, with this. He swears to go to the clinic. He swears. He starts to beg any deity to just let him get through this - just _this one thing_ \- let him get through this security station, go downstairs, get into the darkroom, and please please please let this be how he gets Elizabeth’s number. Please. Let him not read as an Alpha. Please. Just this time. He promises the universe he will try harder. 

The guard returns. Ian starts to stand, but the guard’s eyes flash again. “I don’t believe you,” he says. 

“Sir?” 

“You aren’t a beta.” He crosses his arms. “You think I’m stupid?” 

Ian’s eyes are wide. Thank god he used his eyedrops today. He even dropped more into his eyes than usual. He wanted to be safe. He feels so scared, and he knows that scared could turn into anger. He can feel it. His Alpha. The back of his Alpha’s neck prickling. “No sir,” he says quickly. “No, I don’t...think that.” He swallows. “What did I do?” 

The guard steps closer. Sniffs. “You forgot that you’re _strong_ is what. Strong enough that you can’t cover your shit up with drugs and a fake ID card. You think you can pull your shit over on me? I’m here because I can reach down into a crowd of you hormonal kids and pick _each and everyone one of you Alphas out._ You know how I can do that?” Ian shakes his head. “Because I’m one strong fucking Alpha is how. And unlike _you_ , I know how strong I am. I know how to hide the best of it so others can’t see it.” He chuckles under his breath. “Or the worst of it, you might say. But that’s what the doctors want you to think. The government. They want us to think it’s the worst part of us. That it’s about hiding the worst of it.” He leans in closer. “But this is the worst of it. _I’m_ the worst of it. They say it’s the worst. I say it’s the best. I let that shit out. I’m stronger because of it. And so are you.”

“Sir, I promise that–”

“You think it’s just that your meds aren’t right, don’t you,” he hisses. “How you’re feeling right now. Do you really think you can go back into that fucking clinic and that’s the end of it?” He chuckles again, shaking his head with a smile. “You’re stuck with this,” he says. “You’re gonna be fighting your whole life. The only way those government fucks are going to stop you is if they drug you into unconsciousness and strap you down for life in a padded room. And that’s if you’re lucky. Could pimp you out to the military as a weapon.” He gets so close to Ian’s face he can smell his coffee breath, something sharper. The scent of his skin, too. He can smell it closer up like this. He feels his eyes twitch. Fuck. 

The guard leans back and shakes his head. “There you are, Alpha.” He clucks his tongue as Ian’s nostrils flare. Stop. Stop. How is this happening? He hears the bell sounding. His palms itch and he has to fight his fingers to stay still. “Now why don’t you tell me,” he says. He sits in the other chair and inches it forward. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re _really_ here. I know you don’t go here. You don’t smell like this school. Your backpack is from somewhere else.” 

Ian opens and closes his mouth. “I–” he begins. Play it cool, play it cool. Obviously he can’t. Fuck. “It’s a new backpack.” 

The guard gestures behind his with his thumb. “ _That_ piece of shit is your new backpack?” 

He shakes his head slowly. 

“Tell me,” he says. His eyes flash dark, and he keeps them there. Ian’s breath falls deeper. He can almost feel the noise in his throat. He wants to close his eyes, but his Alpha won’t let him. He feels his hands clenching hard in his lap. “Tell me why a strong fucking Alpha street rat like you is doing in a pussy place like this.” 

He hears it in his throat. Fuck. No. No. _No._ This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. It isn’t how–

“Ian!” 

Lip’s voice makes the guard turn. 

“Why the fuck do you have my brother back there? Don’t you know who he is?” 

The guard laughs out loud. “Yes. Yes I do.” 

Lip shakes his head, eyes searching for the other guard. The guy with the mustache. “Hey! That fuckhead has my brother! Do I need to call my dad?” 

Mustache’s eyes go wide. “No,” he says. “No, we’re okay.” He hurries toward them. He’s an Alpha, too. But he’s not like the other guard. Not even close. “Officer, these are the dean’s boys. You’ve taken enough out of that kid. He’s white as a sheet.” 

The guard turns back toward him. “Oh really? You’re the dean’s son? What’s his name then? Your daddy.” 

“Are you fucking serious?” Lip’s voice is loud. “Fuck this, I’m going to get my dad. Hope you like your last day of work, asshole.” 

“Wait!” Mustache yells - actually yells - a titch of Alpha in his tone. Lip stops short and turns around, wide eyed. Ian almost laughs at his pantomime of a scared beta. “Don’t. It’s fine. Officer? We’re done here. Let him go.” 

The officer puts his hands up and steps back. Ian rises slowly to his feet. He’s shaking. With fear or rage, he doesn’t know. It feels like both. It might be both.

“C’mon,” Lip says. Ian grabs his backpack. Lip claps him on the back as they start to walk off. “I’m fucking serious,” Lip says over his shoulder. “You do that again and you’re fired.”

Ian is trembling. He can’t even believe he’s walking. He hears a noise in his throat again. 

“Quiet,” Lip says. Alpha tone. “Let it go. It’s gonna be okay. We just gotta hurry. I think there’s a back door down there. After we get this figured out we can split. You can run down the block and I’ll come pick you up.” 

Their feet hit the steps fast and Lip pulls on him to get him into a walk. “I got all the chemicals set up,” he says. “They had a chart on the wall. You know what to do when we get in there?” 

“Yeah,” Ian says quietly. 

“Good,” he says. He finds the door and it opens into red. “C’mon, let’s go.” 

Ian’s hands shake as he pulls the card out again. He takes a deep breath as he slides it into the developer pan. 

“What did that guard say to you?” 

Ian carefully moves the card around with small tongs. “Shh, I don’t wanna talk about it.” 

“Ian. You gotta tell me. He was–” 

“I _said_ I don’t wanna talk about it!” Ian grits his teeth. The flow of anger in his body at once thrills him and terrifies him. 

“Jesus,” Lip breathes. “You okay?” 

“No,” Ian says. He carefully moves the card from the developer into the pan of fixer. “No, I’m pretty far from okay, Lip.” 

It’s quiet. Ian is grateful for it. Just another few seconds before he can move it to the third step, the water rinse. They need at least 5 minutes in the rinse. His legs itch to run away from this place. 

He opens and closes his mouth. “This guy,” he begins. “At school. He was–he was looking at Mickey. And he looked at me. And he laughed. And I could kind of feel that he either wanted to fuck Mickey, or he wanted–” 

“To out him?” 

Ian slides the card into the water bath. “Yeah.” 

Lip is quiet again. “What did you do?” 

Ian shrugs. “Fought him.” 

“No shit, really?” 

He nods and pokes the card around carefully. 

“At school? What happened?” 

“Doesn’t matter,” he says. “But it’s not over with him. I’m not gonna let him get away with that.” 

“Get away with what? Looking at Mickey?” 

Ian nods. “I’m not letting him get away with _anything_ Mickey. I’ll fucking kill him.” 

It’s quiet again. Lip fiddles with his hands and Ian knows he really wants to smoke. “Hey,” he says. “Are you okay? Seem kinda, I don’t know, worked up?” 

“Worked _up?_ Are you kidding me?” 

Lip doesn’t answer for a while. The card moves slowly in the water. “You know,” Lip says. “At first my drugs weren’t right. The stabilizer mostly. I had to go back into the clinic twice the first few months. It can take a while to figure it out,” he says. “So it’s okay if you don’t think they’re working right. It’s normal.” 

Ian shakes his head. “I’m fine. I don’t need that.” 

“Maybe if you just go and check? You know?” 

Ian doesn’t respond. He looks up at the small clock on the wall. Good enough. 

It takes a minute, but it slowly comes into focus. “Holy shit,” Ian breathes. “It worked.” 

There is a phone number there. It is very small, and the lines are very thin, and it’s backwards so he’ll need a mirror to read it, but there it is. The symbol is a repeated pattern of interlocking Es. Ian feels such relief he almost starts to cry. 

He turns to Lip. He’s grinning. 

“Okay,” Lip says. “Can we bolt? Will it be okay?” 

“Need air,” he says. “Has to dry first. It–” he reaches out and touches it. The paper is bone dry. Holy shit. 

“Man,” Lip says. “We need to figure out what this paper is. The possibilities are endless.” 

Ian carefully slides the card into his jacket pocket. He is suddenly so afraid something will happen to it. 

“Let’s go,” he says. “Now. We need to get out of here. It’s not safe here.” He hears himself saying it. Like that. His Alpha. “Now.” 

*

Ian is breathless when he runs up to his room. He grabs his phone and heads for the bathroom. He lays a towel over the bathroom sink to be on the safe side, and he lifts the card to the mirror to read the reversed letters. He carefully dials. 

It doesn’t even sound like it rings. There the tiniest tap that Ian can barely hear. It’s as if his Alpha is sitting there, ears pointed. He would think it was his own body or some sort of noise from outside, but– 

It’s a test. 

He knows it. This is a test. If someone is strong - and maybe he’s strong? - they can hear very well if they want to. Certain sounds. The tiniest tap. He keeps the phone to his ear. His mind wanders. Two minutes must have passed by now, easily. He goes into his room and lies down on the bed. He almost feels like he’s dozing off to sleep when the recorded automated voice speaks. 

“Please record your name.” 

There isn’t a beep or even another tap. Ian sits up. “Elizabeth, it’s Ian. Ian Gallagher.” 

He is about to start saying more when the automated voice returns. “Please enter your security code.” 

Security code? 

“Please enter your security code.” 

“Elizabeth, it’s Ian. I–”

“Please enter your security code.” 

Shit. His eyes dart all over his room. What the hell? How is he supposed to know this? 

“Please enter your security code.” 

His eyes burn with tears. Fuck. 

“Goodbye,” the automated voice says, and then quiet.

*

Ian is dreaming of Mickey. Mickey’s skin. Mickey is saying something very soft, below a whisper, nothing distinguishable. Ian’s lips glide against his skin. He can feel them. Feel his skin, taste his mouth. There is a deep feeling of peace, of happiness. It feels right. Time is gliding like Ian’s hands all over Mickey’s body. In the dream he doesn’t know what is happening, but he knows that somehow he’s having sex with Mickey. 

He wakes himself with a groan. A groan and a hard-on. He wonders how many more days in his life that he will wake up with a hard-on because of Mickey Milkovich. 

He scrubs his hands over his face and breathes out slowly. He reaches over to the bedside table and grabs for his inhaler. He’s about to raise it to his lips, but he changes his mind and lets it fall back. He lets his fingers wander beneath the blanket. He closes his eyes and thinks about Mickey again. He begins to touch himself, not just grabbing at his cock, but slowly feeling his own skin. He feels very sensitive this morning. Not even the way he woke up. Not even being hard. It’s something completely different. His fingers barely feel like his. His body shakes beneath his hands. He closes his eyes, jaw dropping. Fuck. He already wants to come and he’s barely touched himself. 

Something barges into his mind. It’s a flash, really. A flash beyond knowledge and beyond image. He can hear it. Mickey’s strangled orgasm. He can _hear it._ Hear it like he’s right here with him. He’s not. He’s four streets down and three streets over from Mickey’s house, and _fuck._

He throws the blankets off him. He grabs at clothes. He can’t move fast enough. He almost stumbles down the stairs and into his shoes. He hits the sidewalk and runs. Of course he runs. 

Mickey.

When he gets to the house, he looks around. The street looks like the street any other time. The house looks exactly the same. But he can feel him.

He’s alone. Mickey is alone. Probably. Mandy said something about going to Gary with her brother and cousins to do some work. Dad is deep in prison, thank fuck. He doesn’t know what will happen. He doesn’t know if Mickey will even talk to him. But he wants to try.

He has to try. 

He bangs on the door. Pauses. Bangs again. He pauses, longer this time. He can smell Mickey. Smell him behind the door. He’s right there. Ian is about to raise his fist again when the door swings open. 

“Mandy ain’t here.”

“Can I wait?” 

He squints. “No.” 

Ian shifts his feet. He’s having trouble keeping his breath even. His voice is soft. “Why not?” 

“Cause she’s gonna be gone overnight is why.” Mickey swipes his hand over his mouth and turns his head, looks over his shoulder. Ian cranes his neck but doesn’t see anything. He looks back at Mickey. “Is anybody here?” 

“No,” Mickey spits. And just like that, he shuts the door in Ian’s face. 

Ian stares at the door. 

He takes a deep breath as his fist raises to bang on the door again. He bangs through Mickey’s words.

“Go the fuck away!” 

Ian drops his fist. “I just wanna talk to you.”

“Not a good time”

Ian looks over his shoulder. The snow. The street. “Why not?”

There is a long pause. 

“Mickey?”

There is another pause. 

Bang bang bang. “Mickey?”

Ian steps back from the door. He can smell the snow, smell Mickey. 

Fuck it.

The door knob turns easily, and he quietly closes the door behind him. There's crap absolutely everywhere, covering everything, just like always. Mickey's door is closed. He has his cardboard and duct tape sign. STAY THE FUCK OUT. 

Ian pauses. “Mick?” 

The door swings open so fast that he doesn't even register it happening. Mickey’s rough hands, a sharp yank, a rough shove, a hard punch to the shoulder. Ian's body goes flying into the wall. His Alpha is sending energy to all his limbs at once. Fight. But he doesn't. 

“Get the fuck out!” Mickey tries to push him toward the door and Ian plants his feet. Mickey pushes him harder and Ian’s Alpha allows it. Ian hits a shelf before he bounces back toward Mickey. He reaches for his waist, fingertips landing. Mickey, wide eyed, bats his hands away. 

“Listen,” Ian begins. “Just listen to me.”

He slaps at Ian’s shoulders. “Shut the fuck up. Out.”

Ian lets Mickey push him against the wall again. He lets him pin his wrists. He fights a laugh, and it seems to piss Mickey off even more. Mickey is panting hard. Sweaty hands against Ian’s strong fists. He could easily break free if he wanted to.

He doesn't want to. 

“I know what you are,” Ian pants. 

Mickey’s breath comes fast, faster. “The fuck you mean?” 

Ian feels it. His eyes. He forgot his eyedrops. He can see it in Mickey’s face. 

“And you know what I am,” Ian says, voice low. “Don’t you.” 

MIckey’s eyes are wide. They bounce all over Ian’s face. Ian can see his chest rising and falling. Breathing hard. His hands tighten around Ian’s wrists, but he doesn’t say anything. 

Ian licks his lips. He glances over to where Mickey holds his wrists against the wall. He chuckles below his breath.

“What’s so funny,” Mickey spits.

“It's just,” he says. “The book said I'd be able to tell. What you really want? Like, feel it?” 

Mickey shifts his feet. He slowly, slowly releases his tight grip on Ian's wrists. His eyes, still so wide, are beautiful. So beautiful on his. 

“I can feel it,” Ian whispers. He leans forward. The tiniest bit. Mickey bends away, but when Ian moves closer again, he stays still. “What you want.”

Mickey brings a hand up and pushes him back. “Fuck off,” he says, but there's no weight. His hand lingers against Ian's chest before he pushes off of him.

Ian slowly brings a hand up to Mickey’s face. Mickey pulls away for a moment, face tight. “Just tell me, Mickey.”

Mickey shakes his head. His tongue taps the side of his mouth. He opens his mouth and his breath is uneven. “If you know what I want,” he pants, “Just fuckin’ do it.”

“It’s,” Ian begins. “It’s supposed to be better if you say it.” 

“Better for who?” Mickey pushes out. 

Ian moves closer. “Better for you. Supposed to feel really good to say it. I mean, it’s supposed to feel _really_ good. Like–” 

Mickey pulls away again, but his eyes are hooded. He tries to harden his voice, but fails. It wavers, despite his words. “I don’t gotta say shit. Get the fuck out.” 

“No,” Ian says softly. He steps closer, shaking his head slowly. “You don't have to do this. Act like this. I won't tell anyone.”

Mickey looks down, biting his lip. That’s when he does it, so slowly and subtly that if Ian wasn’t looking for it, he’d never know. His head tilts, just slightly, just the smallest extra bit of neck exposed. Mickey’s omega shyly presenting his neck. For him. For Ian. “Yeah?” 

Ian watches his hand reach out, watches his fingers slide against Mickey’s neck. “Yeah,” he says softly. “I’m not gonna tell anyone. I swear.” 

Mickey shudders as Ian’s fingers press a little harder. More firm. A promise. His thumb slides against his jaw. “Okay,” he says quietly. “Yeah, okay.” 

Ian brings his other hand up, Slowly taking hold of Mickey’s neck, his chin, in both his hands. When he straightens him out, he can feel his eyes dilate. Ian knows. What Mickey wants. 

He twists them around and presses Mickey against the wall, crashing their lips together. Mickey makes a noise in his throat as he pulls Ian closer, faster, desperate. His arms wrap around his shoulders, almost hanging onto him. Ian holds him tighter. He can feel it, then. Just slightly. He feels taller. Mickey breaks away with a gasp and offers his neck again, more this time. Ian slows it down as he breathes him in. “God, you smell so good,” he mumbles into his skin. His tongue reaches out and slides a long lick from his collarbone to his jaw. “Taste good too.” Mickey is soft in his arms, moaning. Ian sucks and nips there, earning him more gasped breath just before Mickey pushes Ian back, just a bit, saying _stop stop stop you can’t._

“I’m not going to try and claim you,” Ian says quickly. “I promise I won’t.” 

Mickey nods fast, throwing his neck to the side again, pulling Ian closer. 

Ian feels a rumbling in his throat and he presses harder. Even though he knows he can’t claim him, even though he is holding onto the control, he has to fight the urge. He feels Mickey. What he wants, even though he knows he can’t have it. Mickey is wondering what it feels like. Being claimed. Feeling Ian’s teeth. Ian feels Mickey shaking with the thought. Mickey wishing Ian could go harder, as hard as he could. 

“Here,” Ian whispers. “I'll be careful. I won't do it.” He waits for Mickey to nod. He slips his mouth to his neck, sucking hard before letting go, backing up, scraping his teeth against him, the meat of his shoulder up to his ear. Mickey moans, holding him tighter. Ian nips here and there, the softest press of teeth, then harder, and Mickey goes boneless in his arms. 

Ian pulls back and kisses him. Mickey’s hands slide around his neck and he slips his tongue into Ian’s mouth. 

Ian’s hands race down Mickey’s back, coming to rest at his lower back, just slightly above his ass. He presses him close. Mickey is hard against him. Ian presses his own hardness against him. “You like that?” Ian whispers in his ear. “Feeling me like this?” 

Mickey nods before pulling him to his mouth again. Ian’s hands pull him closer, slipping down the slightest amount. 

“You feel so fucking good.” Ian says, ragged whisper. He lets his hands drift, gently tracing the crease of his ass through his sweatpants. Ian's fingers travel along his waistband, moving back and forth.

“Yeah,” Mickey breathes. “Go.”

Ian feels a rumble in his throat. “Go where?”

“My,” he pants. “My ass. Touch. Ahhh, fuck.”

“What's wrong, Mick,” Ian coos. “Getting wet?” He slips his hand under the waistband, and yes. Fuck. His hand slides over him, and as he begins to press lower, he can feel him. Wet. Ian's throat rumbles. 

“Down,” Mickey punches out. “Down.” Ian doesn’t know what he means at first. “Bed. On my bed.”

His hands move back to his waist, pressing in, walking Mickey backward. Mickey’s breath hitches as his body sinks against the mattress. Ian hooks his thumbs into the waistband and pulls one side down. Not enough to pull them off, just down enough to reveal Mickey’s hip. He scrapes his teeth against it and Mickey cries out. 

Ian kisses along his hip, his belly, slides his hands up his body, but more than anything, Ian is drawn to his wetness. It's an awkward angle, but he can't stop sliding his hand inside the back of his pants. He can’t stop touching it, can't stop dipping his fingers in between his cheeks. “So fucking hot,” he growls. 

“Take them off,” Mickey breathes. “Wanna show you.”

Show you. Holy fuck. Ian remembers this. From his book. The omega’s urge to present their body to the Alpha. Trust. Or a turning point in the omega’s life. Or the urge to bond, or a residual from their heat cycle, a tiny mimic of a full heat. It can mean a few different things, but one thing is clear; this is happening because _Mickey’s omega wants it to_.

Ian breathes hard. His hands pause at Mickey’s waistband. “Are you sure?” 

Mickey nods fast, but he’s shooting him an annoyed look. “I said I want it. Now.” 

His sweatpants come off easily, and almost immediately Mickey turns over. Ian’s hand races down his spine and fists into his hair. Mickey moans, whispers _yes._

Fuck, his ass is perfect. He grabs it with his other hand. “Holy shit, Mick.” 

“Do it,” he whines. 

Ian pants hard, but he’s confused. “Um,” he says. He fists his hair harder because Mickey seems to like it, and squeezes his ass too. He’s trying to listen to what Mickey wants exactly, but he feels a blur. He can’t pinpoint it. He doesn’t know if it’s his Alpha or his own confusion that isn’t picking Mickey’s signal up. “Um,” he says again. He falters. His hands loosen. He’s still curious about his wetness. There isn’t a lot, but more than he’s felt before on other omegas. Not as much as a heat supposedly has, but it’s there all the same, and he likes it. He _really_ likes it. His Alpha is responding to it so much more. So much deeper. More than ever. Ian pulls his cheek back and slides his thumb against him. 

Mickey throws his head back the best he can with Ian’s hand still on his head. He presses back against Ian’s hand. “Alpha,” he slurs. 

Ian shakes. Something reacts quickly. His hands feel stronger. Longer. He drops his hands, edges to the side of the bed and pulls his own pants off. He’s not used to it yet. It still surprises him. The growth of his dick since Reveal. Thicker. Longer. He spits into his palm and pulls. He starts to get back behind Mickey, but then he stops. He feels it, then. What Mickey really wants. He takes Mickey’s hip and pulls him onto his back, getting his face close, nearly nose to nose. “How do you wanna suck it, Mickey? Did you think that far?” 

For a minute, Ian thinks he is going to push him off the bed, especially when Mickey’s strong hand slaps up against Ian’s chest. He’s breathing hard, a little whine in his throat. Definitely a whine, and Ian’s Alpha responds with a growl. Mickey sinks to the floor beside the bed and opens his mouth, tongue out, eyes closed. 

Fuck. 

Ian’s legs part around him. His hand slides into Mickey’s hair and pulls his head back, gently. 

“Open your eyes,” Ian whispers. “I want to look at you.” 

Mickey’s eyes slide open. His gaze is unfocused. 

“Look at me,” Ian says. Louder, but still in awe. He squeezes his hair just slightly tighter. 

Mickey groans as his eyes roll back before finding Ian’s gaze. 

“There you go,” Ian says, a new, firmer depth to his words. “Good. Thank you.” The words are out of his mouth before he realizes it. He feels it. His Alpha. Eager to praise and please the omega in equal measure. His Alpha wanting to be perfect for him. For Mickey. For Mickey’s omega. “Keep your eyes like this. On me.” 

Mickey’s mouth is still open. He hasn’t even swallowed. Ian can see his tongue quivering, a slight wetness around his lip. Ian bends slightly, thumb swiping against Mickey’s mouth, his full lip. He can feel Mickey’s breath hot on his hand. 

“You can close your mouth,” Ian says, but Mickey doesn’t. He hears a little noise, like a noise of surprise. Or disagreement. “Mickey,” he says. “Close your mouth.” 

Mickey does, almost automatically, like it was his own idea. His gaze falters, but he meets Ian again. “But,” he says quietly, breathlessly. “But I want to.” 

“Want to what?” 

There’s a flinch in Mickey’s face that in another world, a world outside this moment, outside Alpha and omega, would be sarcasm. But now it is this. And now this is needy. He is needy. “Suck you.” 

Ian reaches down, pulls his cock slowly. Mickey’s eyes drop down to watch, but Ian allows it. He watches his cock grow harder under his fingers. He can feel Mickey’s moist breath. “You wanna suck this?” 

Mickey breathes _yes._ His hands leave the floor and rest on Ian’s legs, just before they release from his legs and go back to the floor. 

“Look at me,” Ian says again. He feels it again. Mickey. Mickey trying to decide something that Ian can’t quite see. Mickey’s eyes drag back up to his. Ian reaches down and pets his hair, and as if his palm is reading Mickey’s brain, he sees it. Him. There. He takes a shaky breath. “Did you decide where you wanted to put your hands? We can wait if you–”

“Behind my back,” Mickey says quickly. “I want ‘em behind my back.” 

Ian’s mind spins. “You can keep them back there the whole time?” 

Mickey nods his head fast. “Yeah, I don’t need any help.” 

Ian nods fast. Good. “Good,” he says. “Come closer?” He knows it’s supposed to be said evenly. With confidence. But this is new to him. He hasn’t felt this feeling this strong before. Ever. 

Mickey’s hands slip behind his back as he nudges closer to the bed and rests back on his heels. He makes sure Mickey is looking at him before he speaks. His voice is soft and quiet. He can feel it in his fingertips though. His Alpha. He can feel his eyes dilating. His cock is massive and hard and leaking, just inches from Mickey’s lips. He swallows against a growl. He fights the urge to shove forward. “Open your mouth,” he says. “Tongue out.”

Mickey immediately complies. He leans just the slightest bit closer. Ian can almost see him shaking. “Keep your eyes on me,” Ian says. Mickey nods with his mouth open. Ian’s voice softens. “I wanna watch you Mickey. You look...you look so good. So good waiting for me. You’re being so patient.” 

Mickey moans as best he can with his mouth open. His eyes look so beautiful. So blue, pressed soft and needy against his. 

“Okay,” Ian says. He slides his fingertips up Mickey’s arm, slowly. Mickey shivers. “Okay, I’m going to slide my head onto your tongue. Keep your mouth open so I can see it. I wanna see how much you want to close your lips around me.” 

Mickey pants against his dick as Ian leans closer. His eyes are wide, almost teary. He can see how overwhelmed Mickey is. 

“You’re so good,” Ian whispers, hand traveling to Mickey’s cheek, curling and brushing the back of his fingers against his skin. “You’re making me feel so good. So good already. Here we go,” His hands drop, holds himself at the base, slides his hand up and down just slightly before sliding the head against Mickey’s tongue. 

Mickey groans all the way from his toes, body jerking slightly. His eyes roll, and all Ian can think, the only word rapidly racing through his veins, is omegaomegaomega. He keeps hold of his dick and his other hand fists against the side of the bed. He wants to touch Mickey more, hold onto him, but it’s not time for that. Not yet. 

His eyes find Ian’s again. His tongue is so fucking soft. Ian knows he is leaking. He can see it in Mickey’s blissed-out face. 

“I’m gonna slide in more,” Ian says. You can close your mouth if you want. Up to you.” 

Mickey shakes his head just slightly, mouth staying open. Ian does. Slides in. The slightest bit, nice and slow, enjoying the feeling of Mickey’s soft tongue. He whispers to him, saying words, but he isn’t saying them. Not really. It’s his Alpha, rolling around in the pleasure and anticipation. 

Ian hums. “You like this, Mick?” He slides his cock out of his mouth. “Should I stop?” 

“No,” Mickey moans, but as Ian pulls back more, he panics. “Fuck, no. Please. Don’t stop. Please.” There’s a certain desperation, and it hits Ian hard that it’s an omega reaction. He’s afraid. Mickey’s omega is afraid he did something wrong. Is afraid Ian will leave. Afraid that his omega isn’t good enough. 

“Heyheyhey,” Ian says quickly, and his hands release from the bed and his cock. He holds onto Mickey’s cheeks with both hands. He pulls him up to meet him. He kisses him softly, then harder. “Shit. Sorry. I just meant to–I wanted to hear that you liked it, I guess. I didn’t know it would make you feel–” 

“It’s fine,” Mickey says, voice coming fast. “I’m okay. Thanks. Thanks for–” His eyes fix against somewhere over Ian’s shoulder, but come back. “Checking me, or whatever.” 

There’s a moment. A still one. They nod. The room is quiet but there is a pressure all around them. It’s perfect. Mickey slowly settles on the floor again, and Ian’s hand touches his cheek. He nods, and Mickey opens his mouth. Ian slides back in, watching Mickey’s tongue flutter. 

“Suck,” he says softly, and Mickey’s mouth closes around him and begins to pull. 

Fuck. 

Holy. 

Fucking.

Fuck. 

It’s a mystery, really. It’s not like omegas have completely different mouths. Or throats. But the theory is it’s a little bit like Alphas growing taller or wider. They change somehow. Adjust. They don’t get tired using their mouths in any way, in any form. Kissing. Licking. Sucking. A talent written into their biology. 

Their lips move perfectly, the perfect pressure. Their tongues the perfect pressure. They can take more inside their mouths and throats than anyone else. Can hold direct pressure, indirect pressure, no pressure at all, just breath. Ian’s felt it, before. Before his reveal, he experienced it with other omegas. But now, after reveal, he was different. And not just because he knew he was an Alpha. 

Even before his reveal, even before his Alpha growth, Ian’s always had a big dick. He knows he’s so big it’s been a problem. 

Mickey does not appear to have a problem. 

He starts with his tongue, his tongue everywhere. Caressing the head, the underside, all from inside his mouth. His tongue slides around and around. He sucks and slides, eyes full on Ian the entire time. He takes him down further, easily sliding down more than halfway. Ian’s hand settles lightly behind Mickey’s head as he breaks into a moan, head tipping back. 

Ian’s eyes open, pushing against the ceiling. God, he wants to fuck into Mickey’s mouth. Wants to raise his hips and fuck into him hard. He breathes down his Alpha, pacing and scratching at some imaginary door in Ian. He breathes heavily, shaking under Mickey’s mouth. He tells his hips to stay still, tells his Alpha to relax. He lowers his eyes and Mickey is right there to catch onto him. He slides up gently before he slides all the way off. His hands are still behind his back, right where he wants them, so he nuzzles against Ian’s cock with his cheek. 

“You can,” Mickey says. “You can do that. Just gimme a sec. Wanna do some other stuff first.” He drags back off Ian long enough to swipe his tongue over the head. “Okay?” 

Ian opens and closes his mouth. “How did you– I mean, you heard–?”

“That you wanna fuck my mouth,” Mickey says. He bends, licking over Ian’s balls, a straight line up, all the way up, before swiping the tip again. “An’ I wanna have you fuck my mouth. Just wait a sec.” He swallows. “That ok?” 

Ian is surprised he doesn’t break his neck with how fast he nods. “Holy shit,” he says. “Yeah, that’s really fucking okay.” 

He groans as Mickey’s mouth moves up and down. Mickey hums as he draws Ian deeper. Ian’s hand is still on the back of his head, but he doesn’t apply any pressure. He cries out before he starts to grit his teeth. Mickey’s tongue still slides up and down along the underside even as he takes Ian deeper. His eyes blink up at Ian, and he turns his head just enough that Ian can see Mickey present his neck, even as he sucks the fuck out of his dick. It’s almost too much. Ian growls. An actual growl. His hand leaves the top of Mickey’s neck and attaches to the side of his neck. He presses against him before tracing the tips of his fingers all the way up, meeting his mouth where he is stretched around his cock. 

“Fuck,” Ian says. “God, you feel so fucking good. So good at sucking my cock.” He pauses, licks his lips. He feels his eyes. “Omega.” 

That does it. Mickey moans around him, keeps moaning as he moves down toward Ian’s base and the moan is silenced as Ian’s cockhead slides into his throat. 

Ian punches out a sound. He can’t tell what it is. But his Alpha is pleased. He realizes his eyes are closed. He keeps breaking his own rule, but Mickey isn’t. When he opens his eyes Mickey is looking at him, and Ian can see the bulge in his throat. He slides his fingers against it and hums. 

Mickey slowly slides up halfway before sliding back down, down and down. He feels like he could just keep going and going, and Mickey’s lips are there, right at his base, nose against Ian’s skin. No one has ever done this. He didn’t know this was possible. Mickey’s throat squeezes around him. Ian gasps. 

Mickey squeezes around him for another moment, and then he slides up and off. He looks woozy. He leans forward again and licks one more line up before he sits back again. He pants for a moment, but starts to smile. “You okay?”

Ian can feel his wide eyes. He breathes out heavily and shakes his head. “Fuck no. That was. Fuck.” He pulls Mickey up to meet his lips, speaks inside his mouth. “Can I touch your hands? Please?” 

Mickey drops his hands from behind his back, meeting Ian’s, squeezing before his arms wrap around Ian, gliding against his back, pulling him closer. Fuck. It’s so good. It’s all arms and chests and hands and warmth. Ian lets his hand slide down again. Find Mickey’s ass. Wet. Wetter. He slides his fingers there again, just to touch, feel, know. 

Mickey pulls back with a smirk. “Thought you were gonna give me some work to do.”

Ian chuckles, sliding his hands up again. One is still wet, and when he brings it around, he pauses. It is clear, and not sticky really. It smells good. Clean. 

“Jesus Christ,” Mickey says, almost grouchy. “Don’t do it.” 

Ian raises an eyebrow. “Don’t do what?” 

Mickey gestures down to his hand. Ian can see a flush in his cheeks. “What you’re about to do.” 

Ian peers at him, stone-faced. “What,” he says. “Do this?” He licks experimentally at his hand. The minute his tongue tastes it, he wishes he had more. “Fuck, that’s–oh my god that’s good.” It’s a little like salt, but more like honey, and something else he can’t quite name. “Mickey, fuck. Wanna taste you. You taste so good. You–”

Mickey’s chest is heaving, eyes hooded and full lips parted. But he hardens his voice just the same, dismissive with a slight shake of the head. “I just taste like that to you,” he snaps. “I guess.” 

“What do you mean you guess?” 

“What, you don’t know this?” 

Ian shakes his head. 

Mickey doesn’t look at him. Even when Ian cups his chin and tries to guide him over. “Some omegas,” he begins. “Sometimes some omegas can, like, taste good to some Alphas.” 

Ian is surprised at the jealousy that rises. “ _All_ Alphas?” 

Mickey sighs, annoyed. His eyes come back to meet Ian’s. “I said _some_.”

Ian swallows. His Alpha is off pouting somewhere. “But like, how many. Ballpark.” 

Mickey pushes at his chest, just a little. “What, you jealous or something?” 

Ian shrugs. “I don’t know,” he lies. “Just wondering.” 

Mickey rolls his eyes. “We getting back to this or not? Your dick’s gonna get soft I’m not suckin’ you back up. Got shit to do.” 

“Oh, I'm gonna get soft? Really? You think that can happen when you're on your knees sucking me off like this?” Ian can feel his eyes move, and his hand finds Mickey’s head again, cradling the back. They are still face to face. He can see it in Mickey’s eyes. The softness that crawls over him. Omega. “Put your hands behind your back again,” Ian growls. “You still want that?” 

Mickey fumbles to get them back behind him. He sinks to his heels. “Fuck yeah I still want it.” 

Ian’s fingers tighten. “You still want me?” 

“Yeah,” he pants. “Fuck my mouth,” he says. “And maybe–”

“Maybe what?” 

“Talk to me,” he mumbles in a whisper. “Like that. Tell me what to do.” His eyes blink up. “Please.” He waits for a response, but Ian doesn’t offer one. “ _Please._ ”

His Alpha circles back again. He lets him wait before he speaks. “You sure you want me and not some other Alpha?” 

Mickey bows his head. Deeply, so deeply. Like an omega. He slides his head up again, neck bent, presented. “No,” he whispers. “Just you.” 

“Oh yeah? What about one of the other Alphas that think you taste good? Should I stop and leave you here like this? So some other Alpha can come in instead?”

He bends his neck, and Ian’s digs his fingers into it. “Don’t want them,” Mickey breathes. 

Ian falters, but tries not to let it show. Does that mean he is wanted? He wants to be wanted. By Mickey. Wants to be the only one. Ian presses one last dig of his fingers and he pulls away as Mickey’s neck straightens again. “What do you want, Mickey?” 

He’s panting hard. “Want you to fuck my mouth. Hard.” 

Ian holds his cock and pulls. “Why?” 

“Because I,” Mickey stumbles. “I want it in my throat.” 

“Want what?” 

Mickey sticks his tongue out but Ian ignores it. He’s startled by the controlled firmness of his voice.

“I _said_ , want _what.”_

“Your cock,” Mickey says, trembling. 

“Mmm,” Ian says. “You want to take all of me? Can you do that?” 

Mickey nods fast. “Yeah,” he pants. “Yeah, I can. Want to.” 

Ian can feel it. Something else. He softens, speaks quietly. “What else do you want, Mick? You can tell me.” 

“Call me omega,” Mickey says, so softly Ian almost misses it. “Please.” 

“Omega,” Ian says quietly, as if testing out the word. Mickey’s eyes go glassy. “Open your mouth, omega.” Ian slides his hand around Mickey’s neck and pulls him gently closer. “Open your mouth,” he says. 

He does. Ian traces Mickey’s lips with his cock, presses in slightly, feeling his tongue. Mickey softens, humming around him. His eyes blink up at him. Ian begins to thrust shallowly. 

There’s a soft wet sound, and the sound of Ian’s breath, and Mickey’s breath on his cock. Ian’s hands feel bigger when he holds Mickey tighter. He closes his lips around a moan. “That’s good,” he says quietly. “Fuck, that’s so fucking good.” 

Ian can’t believe this. His eyes sweep down Mickey’s naked body. He can see his biceps, his arms behind him, right hand holding onto his left wrist, tight against his lower back. Ian follows his back all the way down. He can see Mickey’s ass, the lightest shine against his heels as he rocks back. “Does that feel good against your ass, omega? Rocking back and forth like that? I didn’t see you doing that. You trying to get off there, too?” He presses deep inside his mouth, holding for just a moment before pulling him up again. 

Mickey tries to nod his head, but Ian is holding him. Not tightly, but Mickey doesn’t pull off. Ian’s fingers slide into his hair and guides him off. He waits until Mickey nods. “Maybe next time,” Ian says. “Next time I can plug you up when I do this. Would you like that? Fill you up like a good omega?” 

“Yes,” Mickey breathes. “Fuckin’ a.” 

_Next time_ Ian thinks. He said next time, as if there would be one, and Mickey didn’t correct him. Ian falters. His hand loosens. “Mickey,” he says quietly. “Do you still–are you still okay? With this?” 

Mickey’s face hardens. “Why. Don’t want to?” 

Ian can hear the truth behind it. Don’t want _me?_ “No,” Ian says. “It’s not that. I’m just. I don’t want to like, make you feel uncomfortable, or–” 

Mickey’s hands drop from behind his back. He swipes them against his face. “Jesus Christ,” he mumbles. “Thought you were an Alpha.” 

“I _am_ an Alpha. Obviously.” 

“Then fuckin’ act like it,” Mickey growls. He leans up and crashes his lips against Ian’s, hands grabbing at him. Ian immediately responds, pulling him closer. Mickey breaks away and Ian sucks at his throat. 

Mickey pushes him back, just slightly, on the bed. His head immediately dips and he takes Ian in his mouth. He sinks low, very low, all the way to the base, and he starts to fuck himself on Ian’s cock. His eyes are firm on Ian’s, and when Ian starts to rumble a growl, he swears he can see a smirk. 

Ian lets him do it, watches Mickey’s mouth move, the bulge in his throat, his hands free, sliding up Ian’s legs and finding his hips. Ian watches him move. The submissive but almost aggressive power of it makes his insides burn. 

Ian hears it. A noise from deep inside him. He grabs at Mickey’s hair as he starts to dip down and pushes him down the rest of the way, holding him by the neck. He murmurs something he can’t hear, and when his hand lifts the pressure, Mickey stays firmly down instead of rising with Ian’s hand.“Mick,” he whispers, almost nervously, nudging his head up, sliding his fingers and guiding him up. “Breathe.” 

“I can,” Mickey says. “Don’t gotta do that. I can breathe. Don’t stop.” 

“Fuck,” Ian whispers. “Fuck, okay.” His hand slides back against him and Mickey sinks back down. He taps at Ian’s hips. His eyes say it. Ian doesn’t have to try to guess. Harder. Faster. 

Ian holds his head tighter with both hands as he thrusts. His breath shakes. “Look how good,” Ian murmurs. “Look at how fucking good you are sucking my dick. Already getting sloppy,” Ian murmurs, wiping at his wet chin. “You like this, omega?” He pulls Mickey off of him. 

“Yeah,” Mickey breathes. His eyes are closed but open slowly to find his. “You taste so good. I fuckin’ want it.” He swallows. “Want more. Please.” 

Ian pushes back in with a growl. There’s nothing else to call it. A growl, thrusting in, fast, hard, just like Mickey asked for. “Your fucking throat,” Ian grunts. “Your throat is so fucking good. Can’t believe you can take me all the way down. You're a good omega, aren't you? Love sucking cock. Showing off. You like this.” Mickey’s fingers tighten slightly. Ian thrusts harder, just a little, before pulling back and sliding Mickey’s head up, almost all the way to the tip, and pushes him down again. All the way down. “So fucking good.” He swallows. He feels his Alpha. Only the Alpha. He feels his eyes, blown wide. He pushes on Mickey's neck harder, letting his nails dig in. “Take my fucking cock, omega. Keep my cock in your throat. There you go.” Ian’s head spins, falls back. 

But then something happens, and he almost panics. His hands flies away from Mickey’s neck, but Mickey stays where he is. “Up,” Ian says. “Off off off.” Mickey does, and Ian can’t believe it, but he’s not even breathing hard. “Is this okay? Like, talking or-” 

“Yes,” he says, grouchy, eyebrows raised hard. “I said I wanted it like this, what the fuck?” 

“Oh,” he says “Oh, okay. Sorry. I just thought maybe-” He smiles at Mickey’s eyeroll. He bends to kiss him. “I just - I just can’t believe this,” he breathes into Mickey’s mouth. “I can’t believe you can do this. You don’t even gag.” 

Mickey flushes pink. “Not a gagger,” he says. “Omegas can take a lot. We can breathe different when we’re doin’ it. I do.” 

Ian nods fast. “But I haven’t–I mean, there’s been different omegas, and they can’t–” 

Mickey pushes at his chest. “I don’t wanna hear about them. Now shut the fuck up.” 

He’s back down again, and Ian can’t see, can’t breathe, can’t believe this is happening. God, he’s gonna come. He has to. This is too good. He has to come. Like, now. Mickey slides up partway and moans around him. Ian can’t look at him, so he looks at the ceiling. He pushes out a long groan. He’s gonna come. Mickey moans more, and Ian sighs at the vibrations. He feels Mickey’s hands shaking against him, and his dick is so wet. He looks back at Mickey, and his eyes are on him, complete bliss in his eyes. Mickey’s fingers and hands leave Ian’s hips and slide back against his back. 

“Wanna come,” Ian says. “Fuck.” 

But then. 

Then he feels it. 

His knot. 

His knot is expanding. 

This has never happened before. Even after Reveal. It didn’t happen. What happens when you knot while getting blown? Do you knot someone’s mouth? Do you do the same as during sex? Just come and come and come, stay still, locked? It doesn’t seem right. It doesn’t seem like a good idea. But he can’t stop. It’s growing. It feels incredible, but he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what’s supposed to happen. 

“Mick,” he pants. Mickey stares up at him, sliding down, sliding over the knot. Tongue caressing the base of the knot. He does not look afraid. Not at all. He looks perfect, like this is everything he’s ever wanted. “Mick,” he says again. He can’t quite keep the worry out of his voice. “My knot,” he says. “It’s starting to–wait a sec, come up.” 

Mickey slides up and off him, but his gaze stays fixed on Ian’s cock. 

“I just–” Ian begins. “I just, like, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I–” 

Mickey meets his eyes, breathless now, shaking his head. “Don’t gotta do anything,” he says. “Let me take care of it. I got it. I can do it. You want it?” 

“Yeah,” he stammers. “I do, but it’s–” he swallows. “It’s just so much. Am I gonna come a lot? I don’t wanna–like does it mean I knot your mouth?” 

Mickey nods fast, a tiny moan. “Yeah,” he pants. “Don't worry bout it. I got it,” he says. “I know what to do. S’ okay.” He nuzzles his forehead against Ian’s thigh before licking a stripe up his dick again. “Want it. Just sit back.” 

Ian pauses. He doesn’t move when Mickey slides back down, and he can feel Mickey’s hum, and feels his tongue against his knot. He can feel it expanding, even more, and he can feel himself flinching even as Mickey hums. “But it’s,” he pants. “It’s gonna be so much. I don’t want to hurt you, or–” he swallows. “Are sure you want this?” 

Mickey nods his head slowly, He slides down and nudges his mouth against the sides of his knot. 

It’s so sudden Ian doesn’t even feel it happening. He grabs at Mickey’s head with both hands and pulls him off him. 

“What the fuck?” Mickey is confused, so confused. 

Ian breathes heavily and looks down at himself. Hard. Painful. “You don’t have to do this.” 

“I know,” he says. Mickey’s face hardens, just slightly. “I know I don’t. But I want to. I said I got it.” 

“But you don’t have,” he swallows. “You don’t _have_ to. I’m okay if you don’t.” 

“But.” Mickey’s eyes bounce back and forth. “What did I...I mean, I thought you–thought you liked it?” 

“I do,” Ian says. “It’s just. I don’t know. Are you sure–” 

“You don't want it?” 

“No. I mean yes, I want it. I just don't know how it works. Like, am I supposed to do something for you? I don't-” 

“You don't have to do shit,” he says, breath hard, eyes shining. “I know how. I wanna do it for you.” He swallows quickly. “I fuckin love it.” 

“Mickey,” he says slowly. “Um.” Ian swallows, but can't say anything else. His brain feels full of static. 

Mickey’s face falls, slowly, but by bit. He trembles. It’s so strange to watch. Ian hasn’t seen anything like it before. His hands slip back out from where he held them behind his back. He doesn’t look at Ian. He bites at his lip. He crosses his arms in front of himself. Covering his lap, his softening dick. “What’d I do?” 

“Mickey,” Ian says, but he doesn’t look up. Not at all. “Mickey, look. It’s not that I, I mean.” His mind spins out trying to think of how to explain it. How he’s nervous. How he doesn’t know what to do. What he’s supposed to. How he wants to make it good for Mickey. He doesn’t know what that means. “It's not that I don't want to. It's just…” he doesn't know how to finish. There has to be something that he’s not doing. He’s missing something Alphas should know about doing this, exactly what they are doing, but he doesn’t know what it is. 

He sees Mickey swallow. He bends to the left and Ian doesn’t know what he’s doing at first, Mickey is reaching for his shirt. He slips it on. He doesn’t look up. Or over. Or anywhere that Ian is. 

“Gimme my pants,” he pushes out. 

Fuck. Ian reaches for him, but Mickey bends away. “Mickey, wait.” 

Mickey’s voice is harsh. “I said give me my fucking pants.” 

Ian looks around. There. They are on the bed. He passes them over and Mickey quickly stands up to pull them on. 

“Mickey,” Ian says softly. “Please look at me.” 

Mickey throws Ian’s clothes at him. “No.” 

Ian feels his Alpha wanting to give an order, but Ian clamps his mouth around it. He’s not going to do that. Not going to listen. 

It hits him, suddenly, what’s happening. He’s wounded him. Deeply. Mickey. Mickey’s omega. Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck._ “Shit,” Ian says quickly. “Look Mickey,” he tries to reach for Mickey but he pulls away. Ian starts to pick up his clothes from where Mickey threw them on the floor. He puts them in his lap but doesn’t put them on. “Mickey, you didn’t do anything wrong. I want you to–I mean, I still want to. It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just –I mean, I just–” 

“Get your clothes on and get the fuck out,” Mickey bites. He looks at the floor, teeth gritted. 

Ian sighs and pulls his shirt on. “I just didn’t know,” Ian says. “I didn’t know what was happening. And you were telling me it was okay, and I shoulda trusted that. I didn’t think I should–” 

“I said to get the fuck out!” Mickey meets his eyes, then. Ian can see it. The deep pain in his eyes. The rejection. Because of him. 

Ian swallows hard. Fuck. He fucked up. “I swear,” he says, pulling his pants on. “It’s not you, Mickey. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s me. I–” 

Mickey grabs him and pushes him off the bed. “Get. The fuck. Out. Now.” 

“Look at me,” Ian says. He feels it. A little Alpha. 

Mickey has to look. His omega says he has to look. But he doesn’t say anything. 

“Maybe we can try again?” Ian tries to step closer, but Mickey steps back. 

“No,” Mickey says. “No. Don’t fucking talk to me.” He turns and walks out of his room, and Ian scrambles to follow. He finds his shoes on Mickey’s floor and shoves them on. 

His voice is hard again. Stern. “I need you to look-” 

“Don’t fucking Alpha me,” he says sharply, spinning around to face him. “Get out. You tell anyone about this,” he steps closer, almost nose to nose, “ _Anyone_ , and I’ll fucking kill you. Alpha or not. Fuck. You.” 

Mickey pushes him outside and slams the door. 

His Alpha is licking his wounds. And yelling at Ian. Disappointed in him. He can feel Mickey on the other side of the door. He touches the wood and he knows Mickey is standing there, right on the other side of the door. Mickey’s forehead. Mickey’s forehead is against the door. Mickey’s breathing is off, and Ian isn’t sure what it is at first, but when it hits him, what it is, he’s crushed. He did this. He made him do this. 

Tears. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any questions or clarifications about the Alpha omega in the last scene? take a peek in the comments. :)


	4. Copper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian learns a lesson and opens his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little different, but just roll with it. It's all for a reason. ;)

He has to know what he did wrong. 

There’s no better time, really. It's been four days. He hasn't seen Mickey once. 

He must not have read his book carefully. He read most of it those first weeks, drugged. He hasn’t touched it in months. It’s time. 

_Knotting is physically and emotionally linked. When knotting begins, both partners experience different yet similar thought patterns. Full knotting with a beta is not possible, but a smaller version of knotting can occur if the Alpha and beta have spent a considerable amount to time together. The smaller knotting will be considerably less time inside the beta, usually no longer than 3 minutes._

_When knotting an omega, their pleasure and safety come first. Knotting an omega, whether orally or anally, is often a profoundly intimate and intense experience. It is the Alpha’s duty to ensure that the omega is supported in every way._

_The Alpha must ensure the omega is in a safe environment, feels emotionally cared for, and feels physically confident to engage in knotting sex. If the Alpha cannot provide these supports, they run a heavy risk of rejection in the future. An omega’s trust can be hard to earn but very easily may be lost. An Alpha must follow the omega’s lead at all times._

_The time period of full knot expansion, orgasm/s, and retraction varies. During full knotting, the penis will swell at the base, eventually large enough to fill the available space provided by the partner. The Alpha’s orgasm begins immediately after the lock is complete, and usually continues for several minutes. Typically the Alpha will have at least one other orgasm after lock, but the time and amount varies. The omega’s pleasure and emotional connection can be extremely high at this point, so it is very important to understand the level of physical trust they are placing on the Alpha’s shoulders._

_After the knot has deflated, the Alpha should carefully remove their penis from the omega’s body. The omega’s body may feel very sensitive and possibly achy. An Alpha should offer water and any physical support the omega may need. It is also important to provide emotional support at this time. This support will express to the omega that the Alpha is pleased and grateful to have shared in such a unique and powerful experience._

_Once again, follow the omega’s lead._

_It is VERY STRONGLY RECOMMENDED that a young Alpha read, review, and understand these directions before engaging in ANY sexual contact with an omega, ESPECIALLY an omega he feels drawn to._

Well, fuck. 

He shuts the book again. The red book with the black A printed on the cover. The doesn’t even say queer on it. It says A HANDBOOK FOR HOMOSEXUAL MALE ALPHAS. He figures if he would have chosen to fill out the supplemental packet of questions during his exam, he would have seen a different book. He snuck a peek at Lip’s the other day. There’s no specification of sexual orientation. When he opened it, he saw a diagram of a vagina, labia majora, labia minora. He shut the book. It was enough to diagram them in health class last year. 

_It is the Alpha’s duty to ensure that the omega is supported in every way._

He throws the book across the room. It’s time to find Mickey.

*

It took a while to find him. He doesn’t like that. He couldn’t even smell after he got off the el by school. He should be able to. He used to. 

He doesn’t like that. Not at all.

He doesn’t like that he has to try and concentrate his search in one portion of the school, where he knows Mickey frequents. But he does. 

He sniffs at the air. He can smell Mickey, but it isn’t as strong. He heads upstairs but the smell is fainter. He heads back downstairs. He walks to the end of the hall before turning back around and heading back the other way. The more the breathes in, trying to smell him, the more antsy he becomes. His Alpha turns, wide eyed, just shy of panic. 

There he is. At his locker. His locker? No. Ian doesn’t think he’s ever seen him at a locker. He fumbles around with something inside, pulling out cash and shoving it in his pocket. A deal. 

As Ian gets closer, he furrows his brow. It’s Mickey. He can smell him. But there’s a strange smell underneath it. It confuses him. He can smell through it, but it’s hard. He just has a layer Ian’s Alpha doesn't understand. A different smell. Like a penny. Holding coins in your hand too long? He can't quite place it. He shakes his head. He tries to clear the scent, but can’t.

He doesn’t like that. Not at all.

Ian is on him in just a few strides. He presses into Mickey with his eyes, and Mickey’s hand on his locker loosens. He feels his eyes a little. He can’t keep the edge of...anger?...out of his voice. “Why do you smell different?”

Mickey’s mouth falls open, and Ian can see him looking at his lips. “It’s none of your fucking business. Push the fuck back.” 

“No,” Ian rumbles.

Mickey gives him a rough shove. “We really doin’ this?”

Ian nods his head fast, eyes wide. “Please,” he says, voice softening. He tries to pull the rumble away. “Mick.” The thought rises up and smacks him in the face. His Alpha can’t breathe. “Wait, did you,” his voice drops to a firm whisper. “Did you _fuck_ someone? Someone else?” 

Mickey huffs out a laugh. “Whaddya mean _someone else_ ,” he spits. “What, you think suddenly we’re gonna be boyfriend and girlfriend here? Last I knew, you couldn't even fuck right.” 

Ian lets it shoot past him. He blinks back hard. He tries not to react. 

“I’m sorry,” Ian says softly. “I should have listened to you. Please, let me make it up to you.” 

Mickey slams the locker. “No.” 

He storms away, but Ian is fast on his heels. “I fucked up,” Ian says, and pulls him by the arm to face him. “It was so,” he looks around the hall and drops his voice. “God, it felt so good. You made me feel so good. And you felt it too, right? Maybe?” 

Ian can see Mickey pause just slightly, but he doesn’t say anything, so Ian keeps going. 

“It was amazing,” Ian says. “ _You_ were amazing. _Are_ amazing.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Mickey says, but his voice has a slight waver. 

Ian swallows hard. “I fucked it up. I know that. But if you give me another chance, I promise I’ll–” 

“No,” Mickey says, louder. “That aint happenin’ again. You hear me?” 

Ian hangs back a little bit, but then rushes up to him again. “I’ll do better,” Ian says quietly. “I looked up in my book. How it works. I know I bruised your...you know. Your feelings.” 

Mickey rolls his eyes. “Bruised my _feelings?_ The fuck does that even mean?” 

Ian is nearly whispering. “Your omega. I know what I did. I know that now, okay? It was shitty. And I’m sorry.” 

Mickey stops so fast Ian almost misses it. He doesn’t say anything, just stares. There’s a softness that comes over him, just a minute, before it hardens again. “Whatever,” he says under his breath. “Don’t follow me. This is done.” 

*

Fine. He’ll call the clinic. 

It’s Saturday, so who knows if they will be open. He barely slept last night, he couldn't stop thinking about Mickey. _This is done._ This morning he got up and ran. 15 miles. He went by Mickey’s and stood across the street a while. He thought about asking Mandy to hang out, but decided against it. 

Enough of this, he thinks on the run home. Enough of staying up too late. Enough of feeling like he wants to get in fights with Jack fucking Malecki. Enough of replaying every little thing he did wrong to Mickey Milkovich. Enough of longing he could take all his doubt back.

Enough. 

When he gets home, he showers quickly and flops on the bed. 

He looks at the info page in his ID book. There’s a list of clinics with his appointed clinic circled in red. There is one phone number to call and a list of all the clinic’s extentions. The main number is 1-800-4UALPHA. 

He rolls his eyes. 4 U ALPHA? Seriously? He opens up the keypad and starts hunting for the letters. He dials carefully. It takes him until the H before it hits him. 

“Holy fuck,” he says aloud. 

He presses the end button. He fumbles in his contacts for the right number. He has to slow his fingers before he can try. He looks at the letters beneath each number. He takes a deep breath. 

He calls the number again, breathes through all the clicks. He says his name. He waits. 

“Please enter your security code,” the automated voice says. 

Ian takes another deep breath and opens the keypad.

2 - 5 - 2- 7- 2.

C - L - A - R - A.

His heart pounds. He doesn’t hear anything automated. He hears a soft click. Another click. One more. 

Her voice is sweet, calm, full of relief. He can feel her, immediately, over the phone. Link. “Hi, Ian.”

He swallows against the lump in his throat. “Hey Elizabeth.” 

* 

She was still cryptic on the phone, but he’ll be able to speak freely soon. She’s headed to his house, but she didn’t even say that on the phone. She said she would meet him at Wally’s at 7pm. He was about to ask where Wally’s was, but she hung up. He sat on the couch wracking his brain before it came to him, so easily taking over his mind, relaxing him immediately.  


Wallace. North Wallace. His house. 

It’s cold. Below zero, easy. He fiddles with a thread on his jeans. He tries to read a book for school - Death of a Salesman - but he can’t quite hold his attention to the words. He finds himself turning pages he hasn’t read. He looks out the window over and over. The cold air seeps through the windows like always. 

He sees a flash of black in the street, and then the smallest knock. He jumps off the couch and throws open the door. 

She face looks pale against the black hood of her coat. She pulls her red scarf down off her face and smiles. Ian feels his shoulders drop. He can’t speak. He hasn’t felt this relaxed in a long time. He steps aside so she can step in. She stomps her feet on the mat, shaking the snow off her tall boots. 

“I missed you,” he says. 

“I missed you too,” she says. She pushes her hood down and takes off the handknit red hat off her head. “I really did.” 

Her hair isn’t braided. When she shrugs off her coat it is fully revealed, spilling down her back in pale easy waves. Ian feels his mouth hanging open. 

She chuckles. “Yeah,” she said. “I thought it was time. It’s not like it will get you or anything.” 

Ian raises an eyebrow “Get me?” 

She nods and gives a little almost-embarrassed laugh. “I don’t know why, but sometimes omegas freak out about hair. Like, freak out in a good way. It can draw them in. It seems like it happens with women more than men. Women are more drawn to it, I mean.”

“Why?” 

She shrugs as she flops on the couch. “Who knows.” She pulls some of her hair forward over her shoulder and starts to comb the ends with her fingers. “Braiding it doesn’t take a whole lot of time at this point, but it’s nice when I can let my hair down. Pun intended.” She smiles. “But I have to keep it up most of the time, unless I’m home alone or with someone like you.” She gives a little wink. “Safer that way.” 

“Safer?”

She shrugs. “Sometimes there’s a stray male omega that is into it, and he hits on me or hangs around me and clearly doesn’t get the memo. It’s not like it’s super uncomfortable for me if they do, but it’s… “ She sighs and smiles at him. “You know what I mean, right? I assume girls hit on you all the time.” 

He shrugs. “I mean, sometimes, but.” 

“Well, they will,” she says. “Now that you’ve Revealed they’ll be getting the vapors on the el. Bust out the fainting couch.” 

He sees his hand reaching out to touch her hair, but stops himself. She nudges him in the arm. “It’s okay. You can.” She flips more of her over her shoulder and holds it out for him. 

It’s the softest thing he’s ever felt. Something so soft should be thin as thread, but it isn’t. He looks closer and he can see small contrasts, the strands almost white mixed in with gold, sun on snow. He finds himself reaching over with his other hand to hold more of it, but pulls it back. She laughs lightly and reaches for his hands. She plants them on top of her head and leans back against the couch. 

“Wow,” he says. 

She closes her eyes and smiles. “Been awhile since I’ve been petted like this.” 

He glides his hand through her hair and leans back on the couch. It’s soothing. “So how’d you figure out? About your hair?” 

She breathes in deeply. “It took a while. I kept it in a ponytail most of the time when I was younger. I’ve always liked it off my face, but I like it long, too. It grows fast. Always has.” 

He opens and closes his mouth. “My hair’s always grown fast.” 

She opens her eyes and grins. “You don’t say.” 

“Is it gonna,” he says. “Is mine gonna do that?” 

She shrugs. “Completely possible. Red isn’t very subtle. You probably have one foot in the door already with that.” She sighs. “Anything in particular you wanna talk about?” 

He thinks about everything. Mickey. The guard at Northside. Jack. Mickey again. But it can wait. This is nice. He lets his hand slide against her scalp and laughs lightly. She turns her head and he brings more hair out. “Is this getting weird?” 

She breathes out a contented sound. “Nah,” she says. “It’s been ages since I’ve been able to relax like this. I don’t have anyone around to touch it.” 

“You don’t let people touch it?” 

“No way,” she says with a sputter. “I didn’t even let those girls from the bar touch it.” She turns a little pink in the cheeks. “I mean, maybe someone touched the _top_ of my head once or twice, but…” 

Ian laughs. “Oh my god.”

She kicks him a little and laughs. “No, but I’m serious. You’ll only see my hair loose indoors with you probably. I don’t even wear it down at work, even though I’m only around Alphas. I don’t trust anyone with it.” She pauses. “But I trust you. Thats huge for me. I don’t even know why, but.” 

“I,” he says. “I trust you too.” 

She gives a little smile. Breathes out deeply. She leans forward and shakes it back. “I just couldn’t cut it,” she says. 

“Why?” 

She looks at him. Link. 

“Clara liked it,” she says. She pauses. _“Likes_ it?” Her eyes drop. “I don’t know. But even before Reveal, when we were just sleeping in the same bed, she’d slide the ponytail holder off and she’d put her fingers in my hair and just pet me to sleep. That is, when I _could_ sleep. Sometimes I’d just lie there looking at the wall, my eyes all wide, trying not to move or breathe. Break the spell. Like I said, I wanted her so badly for so long.” 

He nods. 

“And after Reveal,” she says. She swallows. “She loved it after. More than she ever had. She was the one who started braiding it up for me. She’d look on youtube and do all these complicated things–”

“I noticed,” Ian says. “Complicated. I don’t know how you do it.” 

She laughs. “Lots of practice. And I mean _lots_ of practice.” Her face softens. “But she’s the one who started it. Before I knew it, it was always like that unless we were in bed. Or, I guess, anywhere together where no one could see us. The second we could start, her fingers would find my head and bobby pins were flying off me. Good thing they’re cheap. I think I left a trail of bobby pins all over Chicago.” 

“Was it like a possessive thing? Omega thing?” 

She nods. “I assume so? I never really asked her, but I figured it was. I didn’t know if it was kind of an extension of what she already liked before Reveal or something different. But it’s kind of like I...gave it to her. Like, it was hers. She could do whatever she wanted with it. If she wanted to braid it so no one else could see it down? Done. If she wanted to take out all the pins before even kissing or taking our clothes off? Done.” She gestures to the hat on the couch, laughing. “She made that hat. It’s starting to come apart a little, but when she put it on my head she sighed so hard it was comical,” 

Ian laughs. 

“Yeah, but,” she says. “It was one of those things. Like how Alphas find all these ways to give themselves over to an omega? You know? Take care of them? Even with stuff like this? Little quirks or desires? If she wanted to be the keeper of my hair, all the merrier. I loved doing that for her. People don’t talk about that. People think that Alphas just do whatever they want, whenever they want. Like they are more important than the omega. Like Alphas call all the shots. The boss. That’s not true. Taking care of our omega is the most important thing. And that includes stuff like this. The little things they like. Want. Secrets.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says. “And that’s the sort of thing that we kind of keep, I don’t know, private? Not just for our omega’s safety and their own pleasure, but for us as well. It’s instinctual to find it and instinctual to be hush hush about it. I can’t even believe I’m telling you this. I feel like it’s almost a pact with Alphas. It’s like we don’t tip our hand to it. What we do? For the compatible omega? It’s just for a compatible though. Someone we’re drawn to. Like, I couldn’t pick up or read anything with the girls from...after her. But with the one who matters most? That’s what it’s like. We don’t talk about it. Alphas.” 

“Was it just your hair though? I don’t know if I get it.” 

“It’s hard to explain. I hadn’t even seen it in all the medical literature. I still haven’t. The only reason I fully know is because of the time I met another lesbian Alpha at that club–” 

He jumps in, incredulous. “You know another lesbian Alpha?”

She squints. “Yeah, sure. Not many. I see this one most of the time if I go by that underground club. I don’t even know her that well. We’ve only talked a few times. Alphas don’t always chat like you and I do, you know. You’ll understand more when you meet another strong gay Alpha.” 

“I’ve met a gay Alpha,” he says. “At that other club.” 

She raises her eyebrow. “Was he strong like you, though?” 

There’s that word again. Strong. He can feel the confusion in his face. “I don’t–” 

She taps his knee. “You’ll know it,” she says. “When you’re faced with someone as strong as you.” She gives a little proud grin. “This girl isn’t as strong as me. No one at the club is ever as strong as me. She’s strong, but nowhere near me. She knows it, but she pretends it doesn’t freak her out. It’s still nice to talk with her sometimes though.” She reaches over and starts to play with the hat. “Anyway, we were talking at the bar once. It was the first time I was there. Clara had been gone for a few weeks. I was a mess. I wasn’t sobbing my head off anymore, but I was still really raw. And I got to a headspace where I felt almost self-destructive. I had heard of the club, so I decided to go. I was convinced that I could easily have sex with someone and move on.” 

He tries to stop his mouth from falling open, but it does. “You just wanted–” 

“No,” she says, shakes her head. “Not make love with someone. Just...sex. I thought I could stroll in, find an omega, have sex in a car, and then it would be done. It wouldn’t bother me anymore. I could move on.” 

Link. He can feel her. Feel what she felt, then. Not wanting anyone in particular. Not even horny necessarily. Just walking in, trying not to cry, head turning around, aimless. Spotting omega after omega, one face after another. Watching heads turn as she walked by, feeling a hand touching her here and there. He can feel the rising wave of disgust that built in her belly, the thick ache of loneliness in her limbs, arms numb without Clara’s body. 

She stares at him and he knows. Her eyes get the slightest bit glassy. “You can feel me, right? I’m trying to have you feel me?” 

“Ye-yeah,” he stammers. “I can feel you.” 

She gently picks at the hat. She doesn’t look up. He voice is small. Shakes. “Can I - Can I just link you the rest? It's just so hard to talk about. But I should be able to link it.”

“Sure,” he says quickly. “Yeah, that's okay.”

“Okay,” she says softly. “I’m gonna try a little deeper, okay? Link a bit deeper? My emotions? Is that okay? Can I try? You can stop if it’s too much.” 

He nods before he even processes her words. He quickly closes his eyes. Almost at once, he gasps. 

He can feel it already, as if it is his own body. Almost hear the music. He is submerged. Wait. He’s there. He’s there? He looks around. Tries to see Elizabeth. He feels like she’s there, somewhere. Where is she? There’s something on his wrist. He is wearing two thin black bands looped together on his left wrist. 

Wait. He looks at his hands. Black nail polish. He has black polish on his small, short fingernails. He’s seen black nail polish. At the hospital. On Elizabeth.

Wait. 

It’s dark in the club by the bar, but as he walks toward the dance floor the blue and purple lights guide his way. His eyes scan the crowd, trying not to notice all the eyes on him. He’s nervous. Raw and sad and nervous. He wants to leave. He wants to stay. He’s looking for someone. Someone that can distract, pull his mind away from her. Her. 

Her.

Suddenly, he can feel a hand press lightly on his arm. He turns to find a woman with very dark hair, so dark it shines black under the swinging lights, a little bob haircut with one side tucked behind her ear. Petite, a small bow mouth, eyes bright. Her eyes draw him in. It makes him breathe faster. He feels her hand brushing against his forearm, the barest hint of fingertips. He fights a shiver. He feels drugged, almost. It’s perfect.

She’s beautiful. 

Ian stares into the dark-haired woman’s eyes. She leans closer, sliding both hands up his arms. No. Wait. Not _his_ arms. Elizabeth’s arms. But they feel like his arms. He can hear Elizabeth, the real Elizabeth, saying something far away. He relaxes into it. Relaxes even more. Linked. They’re linked. She took him deeper. He’s deeper. He wants to be here. He wants to be here. With her. 

Her.

Her mouth curls into a crooked smile before she nervously shows her teeth, tiniest bite to her beautiful bottom lip. Her eyes. Her _eyes_. Her fingertips dance against his skin and cradle the back of his neck. His breath shakes at her touch. She smiles again, smaller, and her eyes flit over his face. He feels himself leaning into her, moving slowly toward her lips. His hand slides against her cheek. His other hand finds her lower back as he pulls her up to meet his lips. No. Wait. Not his lips. 

It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that this is happening. Not his lips. Elizabeth. If he’s Elizabeth, somehow. He can feel this. He wants to feel her. 

Her. 

Her mouth is soft and open under his. His tongue meets hers as she pushes a little moan into his mouth. Her fingers press into him. He can feel her trembling. He pulls her closer and kisses her harder. His body is quickly responding to her. It doesn’t feel like when he gets hard. It’s different. A pointed buzz, an open swell. His breath comes faster. 

Both his hands move to her hips, pressing in. He feels himself shake as she presses against him. One arm begins to wrap tighter around her waist, pulling her up and closer again. She breaks away and gives a little moan. His other hand releases and begins to slowly glide up the front of her body. She whispers _yes_. He lingers near her breast. She breathes heavily against him and kisses him harder. His fingers gently trace the weight of her breast before seeking out her nipple. He can feel it through her shirt. He wishes it were in his mouth. Fuck. It makes him moan. “I want you,” he murmurs. 

He breathes into her mouth, his tongue slipping against hers, breaking away to lick and suck at her neck. Her voice is tight and high against his ear. She whispers things. They make him flush hot in the cheeks.

The hands pull his head closer. Closer. He sucks harder. The hands slide up higher, slide up against his hair. 

It's like he was burned. He jerks back. Hard. Fast. The second he does, he can see her clearly. 

Wait.

She is taller than she was just a moment ago. Wait. Her hair is long. Her mouth is not a bow. Her lips are different. Thinner. Her eyes are just eyes. 

She isn’t Clara. 

He can’t pretend she is Clara. 

He can’t just kiss someone, anyone, some random omega on the dance floor, and pretend it is her. 

He smelled it in the woman’s neck first. Didn’t smell right. Didn't taste right. But he didn't want to believe it. He didn't want it to be true. True that she was really gone. That she wasn’t there at all. 

“What's the matter?” The girl’s eyes search his. “You okay?” Her hand reaches for his head, fingers close to his hair - too close. 

He shakes his head fast. “I'm sorry. I can't.” He backs up slowly. “I'm just - I'm sorry.” 

He can feel the tears welling in his eyes. It's too much. He can't. He wipes his eyes with the back of his arm and heads to the bar for a drink. It's hard to breathe. He can’t breathe.

There is a fast pulling feeling, as if someone ran up to him at the bar and pulled him away by his feet. At first he's worried, confused, but then -

Then he is sitting on the couch at his house, panting. Elizabeth looks at him sadly. “Too much?” Her voice is small, the tiniest crack in it.

He doesn't mean to, really. He doesn't plan it. But his arm raises up and slides around her shoulders. She bends closer to him and rests against him. His fingers find her hair again. “I'm so sorry,” he says. 

“Did you,” she says quietly. “Did you see her?” 

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Yeah, I did.” 

She gives the smallest smile. “Pretty, huh?” 

He nods slowly. “Beautiful.” 

“I know,” she says quietly. 

“How did you do that? Show me that?” 

She shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s easy with you. I barely had to think about it.” 

“How come I was the one that was dancing with her? Was I supposed to be dancing with her? Where were you?” 

She looks up at him. “What?” 

“I could,” he says, confused. “I could feel myself dancing with her. Touching her, even?”

She raises an eyebrow. “What?” 

“Are you going to keep saying what?” 

She sits up. “What are you talking about? What do you mean you were dancing with her? How did you do that?” 

He opens and closes his mouth, trying to pick words carefully. “I–Elizabeth, I don’t know. You’re the one who...took me, I guess. I was just standing walking around and then I saw her.” 

Her eyes are wide. “But. But _I_ was dancing with her. _I_ touched her. _I_ kissed her.” 

He shakes his head. “I don’t–I mean.” He feels his fingertip on his chest. “I mean, I think _I_ did.” I didn’t mean to or anything. It was just, I was the one who was there. It felt like I was, almost, kind of, you maybe? I looked down and saw your hands.” He touches her fingertips with his, her black nail polish, only slightly chipped. “I don’t know.” 

Her mouth drops open. “Oh my god,” she breathes. 

“What?” 

“Wait, I think something is starting to happen,” she says. 

“What?” 

“The link. It’s changing. It’s–we’re changing. I knew I could feel you differently. You feel different to me. Even sitting here. We’re changing.” 

“What do you mean changing? I don’t get it.”

She shakes her head slowly. “I don’t either. This hasn’t ever happened to me. Are you _sure_ that happened? Like, are you sure you weren’t just standing next to me?” 

“Elizabeth,” he says. “I felt her breast. I wasn’t just watching you.” 

Her eyes widen. “You _what?_ ”

He nods. “So if you thought you were there, and I thought I was there, then who’s right?” 

“Oh my god,” she breathes. “We’re–we might both be right. If our–if our Alphas are compatible–”

“What do you mean compatible? Like omegas and Alphas are compatible?” 

“Not like _sex_ obviously. It’s like our Alphas are stronger together and are almost destined to be together. Apart we’re really strong, but together?” She shakes her head. “It’s the same pull we feel with the compatible omega, only it isn’t romantic or sexual. It’s like we are two sides of the same coin. Complementary. Have different strengths, but they fit together like a machine and makes us work more efficiently in anything we would ever want to do. It used to happen all the time. Not with just anyone, though. Only compatible Alphas. Alphas you could literally trust with your life. It’s how we used to travel. Kinda in a...I don't know what. I've seen it referred to as a pack in some literature. Anyway, It was safer to travel together, especially if we were bonded to our omegas. If something happened to one of us, like if we died or something, the other Alphas could take over caring for the omega. Not in a sex way, but safety wise. And if something happened to our omegas, we had other Alphas to look after us and help direct the grief. Support us.”

“Is that us? Do you think that could be us?”

Elizabeth nods, eyes wide. “I think. I think maybe.”

He bites at his lip. “Elizabeth, what’s going to happen?” 

She shakes her head. Her voice is soft and small. “I don’t know.” She pulls on her hair. She braids it, just a bit, on the ends. Her voice shakes. “I don’t know.” 

He carefully touches her hand, and she stops braiding. 

“Sorry,” she says. She pulls the braid apart. “I just...I think I got nervous. I never get nervous.”

He pulls away. “I shouldn’t have stopped you. I know what it means, now. That. Your hair.” 

“No, it’s okay. I’m okay.” She clears her throat.

“What about the other Alpha? At the bar?” 

“Oh yeah,” she says. “She kind of gestured up and was like ‘Your omega’s hair?’ I didn't know what she meant. She said ‘I saw that girl you were with. That's not your omega, is it?’ There was this judgey vibe to it. I was ready to leave just because of her.”

“Did you?” 

She shakes her head and clears her throat again. “So I'm like ‘Actually, my girlfriend’,” she pauses and asides “I just couldn't say omega. It still hurt too bad. Anyway, I say that my girlfriend dumped me and it didn't really matter what happened to my hair anymore.” I even started to raise my fingers up toward my hair. I was going to take it down. I didn't even know why I bothered putting it up at all. But I guess I was still crying because this other Alpha covered my hand with hers and said ‘Don't. You don't need to give that away yet. You don't need to.’” She swallows fast a few times. “So I didn't. I haven't. I don't know what's going to happen with it. I just know I can't let it go. I know I have to. I just can't.”

They sit there quietly. Ian floats in and out of linking, just a little, just a breath here and there. She continues. “She’s the one that told me. What I said. A true Alpha and omega pair has little things that belong only to them. Omegas tended to grow attached to things sometimes, and their Alphas would make sure they were taken care of. I guess Clara’s is my hair. Was.”

He feels it again. A link. He can feel the link. It tightens. 

He looks down at her face and she suddenly screws her face shut. 

“What's wrong?”

“I think–I think you’re the one doing it. Linking.” She shakes her head. “Shit, I can't shut it off. Shit. Unlink me. You don’t need this. It’s...you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” 

“I don’t–” he says. “I don’t know how. It’s okay. We can link. It’s–” 

“Try to break it,” she says quickly. “Ian, just try to. Unlink me. My Alpha is telling yours it wants to keep going. My Alpha gets really sick when I feel hurt. My emotions, I mean. Or brain. Inside. When I hold hurt in, it gets worse. My Alpha’s been sick a lot lately. It wants–”

“Wait,” he says. He’s breathing hard. He can almost feel the link in his hands. Something tangible. Chains. “What do you mean by sick? Elizabeth, are you sick? What–”

She gasps. “My Alpha thinks you’re strong enough to take it. Wants you to. I think it wants your help. I can’t hold this all in. It hurts too much. Me. Me and...it. My Alpha. It wants to.” She grits her teeth and shakes slightly. “It wants you to...help, I think. Hold some for me so I don't feel so...bad.” 

There is a small shiver that races down his spine. He feels a flush of something run through his limbs. “Let go,” he says. He doesn’t even mean to. “Let me help you. I can take it.”

“You don't need this. Ian, try to stop. You can stop.” 

He shakes his head. He doesn't even try to stop it. His limbs tingle and he feels a pull in his eyes. 

“No no no,” Elizabeth says. “Fuck. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry. It’s okay,” he says. “It’s okay.” The moment he says it, his Alpha sighs, and there is immense relief. “Elizabeth, it's okay. Really. I can do it. I can hold some. I know I can.” 

“I can’t unlink,” she says, complete surprise and panic in her voice. “Ian - you’re gonna. You’re gonna see it. Me. It’ll be so weird. You can't unsee it. You don't have to. Just-”

He feels his hand find hers. His lips move without him. “You can trust me,” he says. “Just let go. I've got you.”

He hears Elizabeth give a deep gasp, like she can’t get her breath. He squeezes her hand. Her voice gets far away very fast. One moment he is standing next to a woman with short hair - the other Alpha - at the bar. The next moment he is walking back into the sea of people on the dance floor.

For a second he can see her. Clara. Her profile, first. The edges of a smile. She slides her hair behind her ear. His eyes sweep over her. She turns to face him. Her eyes blink against his. Her mouth opens, just slightly. She drops her eyes almost shyly. He walks toward her and she blinks up at him. He takes her face in his hands and kisses her. Soft at first, then more firm. Her skin is soft. He pulls back. 

“What are you doing here?” He breathes. “Where did you go?” 

“It doesn’t matter.” She slowly brings a hand to his face. “I came back,” she says. 

He can feel the tears in his eyes. “What about him?” 

She shakes her head. “No,” she says. “He’s gone. It’s just me. I came back.” 

The tears come, even though he tries to blink them away. “You came back? Are you sure? But what about him? What if he–” 

Clara kisses him, once, quickly. She lets go, reaches up to slide her hair to the side, exposing the highest part of her neck. 

It’s like a drug. He’s drugged. Again. Her neck. His mouth is on it before he can stop himself. He feels like he could live here forever. There is a small rumble. His nose searches her neck, every single centimeter. Her collarbone to her ear to her jaw and throat and back to the side where she holds her hair back. Oh god. Oh _fuck_. He sucks and licks at her gently. 

He can only smell her. No one else. Just her. The guy from Christmas is gone. There is no one else. He only smells her. There’s another rumble in his chest. 

Clara’s hand slides down his back. Her voice. Her _voice_. “I missed your sounds, baby.” Her other hand finds his hair. He can feel her fingers gliding along the braid, the bobby pins. He can feel the vibrations in her throat as she laughs lightly. Her fingers dance along his hairline. “Let’s go take these out somewhere.” 

He raises his head. He can feel his eyes dilated. So full. So dilated. Her breath comes faster. Her arms around his neck. “Yes,” he says, nodding. “I wanna take you somewhere.”

“Yeah?” She grins, slides her hand up the front of his body, slides over his breast, hand resting at his collarbone. “Where?” 

“It’s...it’s too cold for the roof.” 

“Come over,” she whispers. “They’re gone.” 

“Yeah?” He reaches lower, slides his hand over her ass. He’s shaking. “You sure?” 

“Yeah.” She nods before she pulls him closer. She speaks against his cheek, wet breath. “We can be as loud as we want. I wanna hear you, Liz. All your noises. I wanna be loud for you, baby. Gonna be so good for you.” 

He growls. His eyes take everything in. Absolutely everything. Even in the red room, back at the hospital, he didn’t feel like this. “Want,” he growls. The word is enough. She sighs against his lips. 

Wait. No. Not him. Not his. 

Elizabeth’s lips. Elizabeth does. Want. 

There’s a noise, almost. Something stuck. Sticking. It’s his eyes. He blinks them fast, and when he opens them, Clara has stepped back. She looks over her shoulder, around the room. 

He can hear Elizabeth’s voice. It’s Elizabeth’s voice out of his mouth. He can hear it, suddenly.

“I love you,” Elizabeth says. Ian’s mouth moves around the words. He can’t stop them. “I love you. Can you hear me? Clara, look. _Clara._ Come back. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I got so mad at him. I couldn’t help it. I love you. I need you. I’m scared without you. I don’t...I don’t feel good, Clara. I think something’s wrong. Please.” 

Ian’s lips are free of her words. Fuck. _Fuck._

Clara backs up, and there is a pink light that swings down in time to the music. He knows, just like Elizabeth knew. She wasn’t real. She wasn’t there. No one was. Not even someone to pretend with. Just him. Standing there. Not even a drink in his hand. He repeats the words over and over, just the same. Over and over in his head. 

Come back. Come back. 

He’s tired. He swallows. She’s not coming back. She’s not. It doesn’t matter. He needs to remember that. Move on.That’s why he’s here. To move on.

He wants to run away. No. No. He needs to do this. This will help. This is what he needs to do. There’s no use putting it off anymore. It’s got to happen at some point, right? Rip the band-aid off. He wishes it were that easy. 

But if he’s honest, truly honest, there’s a part of him, a part that almost makes him ashamed, that wants it. Looks forward to it. Eager. He tries to listen to that part the most. Tries to imagine how good it will feel. His body. He hopes it will. 

He turns around. His eyes quickly find her. He can smell her. Sort of. Weak. Nothing special. But he remembers it from dancing. The girl. From before. 

She turns when his arm touches her back. “Hi again,” she says. She looks excited and nervous. “I didn't think you'd come back. I was-”

“Where’s your car,” he says. 

She grins. “Really?”

He pulls her hard against him. Even over the music he can hear the hitch in her breath, eyes flying wide. His hand squeezes the back of her neck. “Yeah, really.” He kisses her, chases her mouth with his, sucks her lip. He fists her hair hard. He pulls away and smiles as she sways back with her eyes closed. He gets close to her ear. Bites gently on her neck. “Unless you don't want me to fuck you?”

She nods her head fast. “Oh, please. Yes. God, I- _yes_ I want that. It's just a little down the block.”

 

The car has a seat that goes down, so it's easy to slide her up and still have room for his legs. The link cuts in and out. He feels clothing under his hands. He feels the cold in the car, starting to warm with panting. He feels the way her nipples respond to his hot mouth. His lips travel down and down. He kisses along the soft black lace stretching across her hips, sliding one side down, mouthing along her skin until he slips them off altogether. 

He feels his hands slide under and over her thighs. Her skin is soft, but not enough. Not like–

No. No. Don’t think about it. Just keep going. This is fine. She is fine. This girl is fine. She has a nice smile, a very nice body. He likes it. It's sexy, even. She is making little sounds that melt into heavier sounds. His Alpha likes them. But they aren’t the same sounds. She isn’t–

Her. 

He nuzzles against the inside of her thigh, humming. She murmurs something, fingers trailing against his shoulder. He plants kisses in a thick line, lips dragging against her skin. He breathes in deeply as he fully meets her, the soft place between her thighs. He breathes against her and she opens with a moan, a small whispered _please_. 

He knows where he is. What is right in front of him. But he doesn't exactly see it clearly. He doesn’t recoil like he would in some other world - a world that is further and further away. He wants it. Elizabeth wants it. It is fleeting in his mind. This is Elizabeth. Elizabeth’s body, right? Right?

Right. 

It's because it’s not really happening. That’s why it's not completely clear. This is the _memory_ of her. The omega in the car. This is the memory of Elizabeth in the car, between her legs, trying to move on. All the sensations, all the physical want and desire, is an echo. But he feels it like it’s real. Every thought. Every nerve. His own body doesn’t matter. His body isn’t even there. Not really. And feeling Elizabeth’s body, this space he is somehow inhabiting, doesn’t matter. Being Elizabeth, like this, doesn’t matter. He can hold onto Elizabeth like this. What she's feeling. This girl in the car. The nameless omega. He knows this is important. This memory. It’s like Elizabeth called him here. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here. Right?

The omega moans as his mouth moves closer. She is so warm, and making more noises. Good noises. It is something to focus on, something to root him, something to do so he doesn’t think of - 

Her. 

She is so soft under his tongue. He still can’t quite see anything. It's just a small warm space, soft folds and acceptance. He presses closer as he begins to lick her. Slow, wide lengths at first, over and over, warming her up. He lets a deep groan escape a moment before moving on, sliding, exploring, sucking gently and not as gently, directing pressure here and there, a tap and pointed nudge against her clit. Her back arches with a deep, loud cry as she finds her first release. He feels her thighs around his head before he gently pushes them down, holding her wide open, mouth pressing in, licking relentlessly. She shakes harder. 

“Alpha,” she breathes. 

His Alpha–no, Elizabeth’s Alpha– comes closer, curious. He pulls his mouth away and pulls her leg up, hooks it around his shoulder. His fingers slide inside her. She's wet. So fucking wet. They move slowly at first, a slow tease as he flicks his tongue at a pace she seems to like. Suddenly, she comes hard, a gasp of surprise. It catches them both off guard. She tries to twist away, sensitive. He pulls her other leg up as he raises his head. He feels her wetness on his chin. His voice, rumbling and low. 

“We can do better,” he says. “Are you ready? Do you want to?” 

She whines. “Oh god, yes. Please.” 

He hums. He slides his thumb against her opening, a bit of pressure at the top, just enough to make her shake beneath him. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” she says, voice high. “Yeah, I want you to fuck me harder.”

There's a moment. A moment where he falters. A flinch. He hasn't heard that before. He never heard that from... Her. 

Sure, she would want it. That. She would ache for it. Her eyes open and heavy, the top of her head tipped far back on the pillow. She would ask for the same thing- but she never said it like that. Rough like that. When she said it, when she asked for it, she encased her want in layers that built slowly. Slowly and steadily, until she was making a singularly specific noise. It was a noise that made what felt like his entire body moan. She would move her legs a certain way, whispering his name, high and garbled at the end, half missing with her wet breath. _”Liz. A. Oh my god, oh my god, Elizabe...oh yes. Please, like that.” A deep kiss to his mouth, eyes almost glassy. “Baby.”_

Stop.

Don't think. 

About.

Her.

He tries to focus. This is good. This is fine. He's making her feel good, and isn't that what matters with this? Isn't it? He squeezes his eyes shut. She comes again from his mouth, and before she can say anything else, he slides his fingers out before gliding them back in, pressing harder, fingers pressing inside her deeply. He curves them just so, right against her g-spot, massaging and applying direct pressure. She gasps. Her back arches beneath him again, and he holds on tight to one hip. She lets go with a scream. It echoes in the small space. The word “more” rips through the air. He catches it.

There is a blip in time, some sort of skip over what directly happened next. When it flickers back, Ian finds himself on his back. She is between his legs, fingertips racing up his thighs and holding his hips. She moans against him as he fists her hair, grinding against her mouth. He doesn’t have a dick. Elizabeth does not have a dick. This doesn't work that way.

But. 

“Like that,” he groans. “There.” 

The omega licks and sucks at his swollen and sensitive bud, coaxing his clitoris further out from under it’s hood. Fuck. She sucks him off so good. He gasps as she pushes her mouth closer. Here it comes. He can barely breathe. 

“Now,” he gasps, hand stilling in her hair. He feels himself grow a bit longer against her tongue. A bit longer. Sensitive. So sensitive. Just slightly longer in small increments. Done. 

He cries out. He stops. They freeze. The omega’s mouth stills, waiting for him, keeping him warm. This is what happens. To Elizabeth. Part of him is aware of it. How it feels. It's her clitoris, not a dick. Bigger than it usually is, but not as big as a dick. It's shorter, smaller, thinner. But the sensitivity after being so firmly hidden is almost painful at first.

His face is tight. He tries not to think about her. Her. She was always so good at this part. The deep instinct. It was the type of person she was. Is. Knowing exactly how to do it. Exactly what Elizabeth’s body needed to relax, especially the first few times. Exactly the right pressure. Exactly how long to wait. This was one of her favorite things, and because it was one of Clara’s favorite things, it was one of _their_ favorite things. The press of her face, closer and closer, awaiting the changing growth. The extension releasing on Clara’s tongue, held safely. Warm in her mouth. The anticipation. The promise. 

He shudders out a breath. “Okay,” he nods. “Okay, you can go.”

She doesn’t even build up to it. She gives a small, experimental hum. His eyes fly open. “Holy fuck.”

She backs up and licks at his soft folds, pushing her tongue inside, curling before she eases off. “Do you want any fingers?” She drops again and licks inside him.

He breathes deeper. “Y-yeah. Maybe just one.” 

She slides one in immediately. It slides easily and carefully. He's wet. Elizabeth is wet.

“One-ahhh, _fuck_ ,” he gasps. “One more.”

She presses in harder. She rubs inside him. Her mouth slides against his hood again and licks up and down before holding him and sucking. He moans at the same time she does. It’s over. He comes hard. So hard. So good. But almost immediately there is a crash of betrayal. 

Her. 

He can feel the bobby pins in his hair. Lying there. Pressing into his head. Elizabeth. Elizabeth’s head. He's Elizabeth. The pins are sharp against his scalp as he presses back harder from the aftershocks of his orgasm. He can feel every single one. His eyes burn. The girl is still moving against him. She isn't finished yet. He groans and pants. Her mouth is still moving. Omega. An omega’s mouth. She isn't tired. God.

“Fuck that feels good,” he pants. “Fuck.” He feels a shudder roll through him. Her tongue is everywhere. He has tears in his eyes. It feels so good. Too good. He hates how good it feels, how eager he is to come again. He shouldn’t like it, right? Her mouth? But he does. His hand slides into her hair and she moans around him again. He’s going to come. Again. He groans. Hard. It’s happening. Again. She flicks her tongue. Again. He tries to move away somehow, get away from the bobby pins. Get away from what reminds him of-

Her. 

The omega’s hands slide up his body, holding his breasts, brushing against his nipples before holding them tighter. He comes again. No, wait. Not him. Elizabeth. Elizabeth does. He does not feel this. Coming. Not really. His brain does. Elizabeth’s brain. Elizabeth’s memory.

He feels something tickle his cheek. He doesn’t know what it is at first. It’s only when it slides against his eyelashes that he knows it is his hair. Wait. No. Not his hair. It’s long. Very long. He feels it against his bare skin. Almost immediately, the woman’s hand leaves his breast and reaches out for it. 

“Stop stop stop,” he says. He panics, starts to sit up. “Please,” he says. 

She eases off him, wiping at her mouth. “Did you not–” She looks down, confused. “You haven't even started retracting yet. Shouldn't I keep going? Do you want something else? Because I-”

His eyes keep burning. “No, I'm. I don’t-I'll retract, it's okay. It was good, it's not that. I’m sorry, I just. I can’t. I need to.” He starts to fumble, trying to find his his shirt, his jeans, his bra somewhere. He passes over her clothes. The shirt he pulled off her. The skirt and leggings he shoved down. Her underwear. “I’m just. I had a,” his throat is dry. “I don’t think I’m ready to do this.” 

She sorts through her clothes. She doesn’t look at him. “Ready to do _what_ exactly?”

“I’m too,” he continues. “I’m too fucked up. I’m sorry. I’m just really–”

The omega sighs, annoyed. “Oh my god. Come on. It’s not like I want you to _claim me_.” 

“I know,” he says, sliding his shirt over his head. “I know, but still. I just–”

“Look,” she says. She leans back, sliding her underwear back on. Her leggings. “This isn't a relationship, okay? I just wanted to fuck. Fuck a hot Alpha. I thought you knew that.” 

He feels like he’s been slapped. But why should he feel surprised? Isn’t that what this was? Didn’t he go in knowing that? He can’t think. He’s glad it’s dark. Dark enough despite being under a yellow streetlight. Oh. So that’s it. That’s what she wanted. That’s what this was. The second person he had sex with. 

No. Not him. 

Elizabeth. 

He can feel her. Elizabeth. The pain when it hits. 

This is what it was going to be like without her. Without Clara. This.

The omega leans into the cups of her bra, adjusts, and twists toward him. “Here,” she says, pulling her hair up. “Hook me.” 

He clears his throat as his fingers find her strap. His black fingernails. He hooks it in the middle closure.

“Thanks,” the omega says.

“You’re welcome,” he says. Why. Why did he say that.

She pulls the shirt over her head. “I thought you liked it though? I mean, you had _five orgasms._ Was it really _that_ terrible? Because most of the Alphas I’ve–” 

“No,” he says. “It’s not that.” He tries to steady his voice. “It felt great. I just–” 

She sighs. “Have an ex. I get it.” Her keys jingle somewhere in her coat pocket. He finds his coat in the front seat. She opens the door and stands there a minute before he realizes she wants him to get out. 

It’s cold outside. His eyes tear. He can pretend it’s the cold. “If you get over her,” she says. “You can call me or something?” 

He clears his throat. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I’ll do that.” 

She gets back in the car and starts the engine. He stands there and watches her drive away. He shakes his head. The hair is still there, hanging down. Elizabeth. Elizabeth’s hair. 

He bursts into tears. He runs fast. So fast. The cold whips against his face. He jumps over ice, over thick tire tracks from snowplows. 

Her house is dark. He stares up at her window. He imagines a light. Imagines her opening the door. 

He sobs. He sits in the driveway and sobs. He can’t catch his breath. He can’t breathe. Cold, cold tears. He–

He gasps. He feels a sharp yank, sees some sort of color he doesn’t recognize. His eyes fly open. It’s his living room. He fights to regain his breath. He closes his eyes again and wipes his hand over his face. “Fuck.”

When he opens his eyes and turns, Elizabeth is breathing hard too. But her head is bowed deeply. He can’t see her face. She has it turned away, just slightly. 

“Hey,” Ian says. “Hey hey hey.” He reaches for her hand. 

She lets him take it, but doesn’t face him. He hears a little choked sound. It comes harder. Higher. 

She doesn’t try to fight it. She turns her head and the tears fall. They fall fast. Her voice is high and tight. “I miss her so fucking much.” 

Ian takes her in his arms. She curves into his body and lets him hold her. “I know you do,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry.” 

For a while, the only sound is her crying. He closes his eyes and breathes. Little by little, he feels her begin to slow her breath. It takes a moment for him to realize her breath is finding the pattern of his. She sniffs and slowly begins to sit up straight. She meets his eyes and gives a tiny laugh. 

“What’s funny?” 

She sniffs. “I’m sorry you had to see me have sex. Too much information, I’m sure.”

He laughs, “Um, _see_ you? Uh...”

She stares at him. “What?” There’s something in her voice, flushed cheeks. Embarrassment. Panic. “Please don’t tell me you did it again. Oh my god.” 

“Yeah,” he says carefully. “I mean, it was kinda like before. I knew it was you doing everything, but it was a little like I was seeing it through you. Or like, doing things, but really you were doing everything. I didn’t have my body. I had breasts I think. And like, I didn't have, you know. A dick. At least I didn’t in the car.” 

There’s a little flinch at the word car. 

Her eyes go wide. “So you had to like…do...um...go down...” 

“I thought I was doing what your Alpha wanted me to do. I could feel the link. I was curious.”

“About what. About girls?” 

He shrugs. “And how you’d like, Alpha during–”

“Oh goooodddd,” she groans, covering her eyes. “Seriously? How far did it go?” 

“Far. To the end.”

She leans back on the couch. She’s somewhere between a cry and a laugh. “I could have just told you, you know. How it happens for me.” 

Ian shrugs. “I know.” 

“I mean, that would have been an uncomfortable conversation,” she says. “But still. This is more uncomfortable I think.” 

“Did I,” he stammers. “I didn’t _come,_ did I?” 

She shakes her head. “Only in your brain, I guess. Or my brain in your brain. That’s what usually happens to me when my Alpha replays it for me. I don’t know. Oh my god. If I think about this too much I’ll get even more embarrassed. But no. You didn’t orgasm. At least I don’t think so. I was kind of weaving in and out. I only saw myself there in the car. Not you.” 

“Where was I?” 

She shrugs, then hesitates. “I have no idea. I thought I might of. I mean. At the club, when I imagined Clara? Thought about her? I kept feeling like you were there. I kept feeling like I almost saw you out of the corner of my eye. I felt–” she clears her throat. “I felt glad you were there. That you saw her. Like I saw her. I feel like that’s partly what my Alpha wanted you to see. How real she was. How sorry I am. How much I want her to come back. You saw all that, right? Could you hear it?” 

He nods. “I was, um. I think we were together there, too. Me in you. Did you feel that?” 

“Not exactly,” she said. “I did feel you. Just there, though. But when I got in her car? Yeah, I totally didn’t feel you. I felt like you could kind of see me, or know what was going on. How strange it all was. Conflicting? Messy emotions? I thought you could feel all that. But not like _literally_ feel it. it wasn't like you were in the car. Let alone be, like, in me.”

“It was strange,” he says. “Because I could kind of feel, but not feel. I could see, but not see. Things were kind of flashing in and out. During. Uh.” 

She looks at her hands. “Yeeeahhhh.” 

“What were you doing in this room? Were you like, awake? Did you see me linked? What does it look like when you get linked that far?” 

“I don't know. I thought I was with you. Which I guess in part I was. I just never knew that could happen that deep for that long.”

“Do you think you could become me? If we link deep again? Could we try sometime?’

She chuckles. “Maybe. But can it not be having sex please?” 

“Why not? Scared you’ll get your world rocked, blondie?” 

“Noooo,” she says. “Not at all. Zero rocking.” She smiles. “Not to shame you,” she adds. “I’m sure you’re very….thorough.” 

He laughs. 

It’s quiet a minute. She plays with her hair. He folds his hands in his lap. “On the driveway.” 

She gives him a quizzical look. “What driveway?” 

“Her driveway,” he says. “How you sat on her driveway. After.”

“Oh,” she says quietly. “Yeah.” 

They don’t say anything. 

He opens and closes his mouth. “That’s when I felt you the most. On the driveway. It was. It hurt. A lot. I felt like I wanted to die.” 

“I did,” she mumbles. “I couldn’t believe I had done that. That I could just go and.” She doesn’t say anything else. 

“Hey,” he says. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“I guess.” She breathes deeply. “So that was the first one. When I think about them, the others, I don’t really even see them. Only the first one. I never even got her name. That’s the time I felt the worst. I mean, during it wasn’t all bad. I wanted to. I liked...doing stuff. It felt good. I mean, you were kinda there. You know.” She exhales loudly. “But after...” 

“Guilty.” 

She nods. “Yeah. Guilty.” 

It’s quiet again. 

“It isn’t your fault,” he says. “That she left.”

She shrugs. “I don’t know about that.” 

“What about her parents? You said they knew? When you were in the hospital? Did they–I mean, was it okay? That you were a couple?”

She shakes her head. “I keep telling myself it didn’t matter. She said it didn’t matter. She said they would come around eventually.” She picks at the hat again. “I’m a fucking idiot. It was never true. She was never going to come out to them. I get that now. I don’t know why I was so fucking naive.” 

“Because you were in love with her,” he says. He swallows. “ _Are_ in love with her.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she mumbles. “She probably married that guy.” 

“How do you know? Can you feel it?” 

She shakes her head. “I just know her,” she says. “It’s what she felt she had to do.”

He looks at his hands. They aren’t her hands. Not anymore. “You could be wrong though,” he says. “Right?” 

He can feel her shaking her head. “I don’t know. Maybe. It doesn’t matter. She’s not coming back for me. I know that. Part of me knows that. My Alpha still doesn’t understand. I don’t know if it ever will. I don’t know how to make it understand.” 

He looks over. She looks pale. Paler than usual. She plays with her hair. “Hey,” he says. “What did you mean before? About getting sick? I heard about. I mean. Is that true? That you can get sick if you can’t be with your compatible omega?” 

She doesn’t move. He can’t even hear her breathe. 

“Elizabeth.” 

There’s a big pause. “When did you hear that?” 

“My brother,” he says. “A couple months ago.” 

She turns away. 

“Is it true? Is that what’s happening? Why you’re sick?” 

She rubs her hands on her knees. “No,” she says. “No, it’s not that. I’ll be fine. My drugs aren’t right. I’ve been experimenting with new ones. Someone’s gotta be the guinea pig. I’m trying to drug my Alpha harder. It’s getting too restless these days.

“You always say ‘it.’ Your Alpha is an ‘it.’”

“Yeah,” she says. “It.” 

“How come?” 

“Because it’s an ‘it.’ I don’t know.” 

He leaves it there. Quiet. He watches her hands slide against her forehead. She closes her eyes. “Ian,” she says. Her voice sounds choked. “Ian, I'm so exhausted.”

He swallows. His eyes feel the start of tears. Just the start. He blinks it back. “Do you,” he says “Do want to take a nap? We could nap?”

She opens her eyes and smiles. “I could nap.”

He nods. Smiles. He needs to say it. It’s right there. “Afterglow nap?” 

She shoves him hard, but laughs. “You better not hog covers.” 

*

He wakes up because he feels someone staring at him. He opens his eyes slowly to find Lip looking down, inhaling his cigarette. 

“So we spent all that time trying to figure out the card so you could take a nap and be spooned by the doctor? You switching teams?” 

Ian blinks. Oh. He can feel her warm body behind him, legs curved against his. He looks down and sees her pale arm securely wrapped around his waist. “If you knew the half of it,” he says, fighting a smile. “It's been a really weird day.”

“Saw Mickey,” Lip says. 

Ian’s eyes get wider. “Where?” 

“Alibi,” he says. “He smells weird.” 

Ian’s eyes widen. He fights the urge to jump out of bed. He slowly begins to pull Elizabeth’s arm off his waist. She mumbles something but turns onto her back. 

He sits up. “I know,” he says. “I smelled him yesterday in the hall.” He decides not to say what he smelled like at first. “What did he smell like to you?” 

Lip shrugs. “Blood? I was pretty sure he got in a fight or something, but I didn’t see anything on his knuckles or anything. I sat down next to him at the bar. I think he was onto me because he slammed his beer back.”

Ian feels anxious. “Are you sure he wasn’t,” he can almost feel his legs tingling, the urge to run. “Are you _sure_ he wasn’t hurt? Like, did he act like he was hurting? You’re sure there wasn’t any blood?” 

Lip shrugs. “I mean, I didn’t take his clothes off. I didn’t smell it anywhere in particular. But I didn’t get that close before he got up and walked out the door. He didn’t want to see me. It was obvious.” 

“How do you know what he usually smells like though? I didn’t think you smelled him like I do?” 

He shook his head. “I don’t know. Why, what did you smell?” 

Ian opens and closes his mouth. “A penny?” 

“A penny?” 

“Yeah, like when you hold a lot of coins in your hand and it smells weird? Like that.”

“He’s taking copper,” a muffled voice says. “He’s trying to reset his scent. It doesn’t work, but sometimes omegas take it anyway.”

Ian turns in his small bed. She has the edge of a pillow over her eyes. “If it doesn’t work, why do they take it?” 

“Sometimes it buys them a few days.” She pulls the pillow off. She blinks, but her eyes widen when she sees Lip. “I remember you,” she breathes. “You’re the smart cookie.” 

“So they say.” 

“One of the nurses was almost shitting himself he was so intimidated.” 

“I remember,” he says. “The guy with the glasses.” He gestures at Ian. “He thought he was the doctor.” 

She nods. “I know, I did that on purpose.” 

Ian sits up in bed. “But _why copper_? How do you even eat copper?” 

“Most people just take a blend in a pill form.” 

“What do you mean, reset? Like, start over?” 

“Yeah,” she says. She still snuggles into the covers Drafty window. “If I had to guess, he knows you’re onto him and drawn to him and is trying to throw you off. I wish I knew what else he was taking. When did he smell like copper?” 

“Yesterday. Just yesterday.” 

“Does he just smell like anything else? Did you smell anything really sweet? Like too sweet? Almost being able to taste it - maybe like cotton candy?” 

“No,” Ian says. “Under the copper he just smells like...him.” He feels a pull in his eyes. 

She gives a little smile. “Ohhhh, okay.” 

“What?” 

“Your eyes are a giveway.” She smiles. She starts to rub at her head. Immediately she freezes, eyes wide. Her hair. “Fuck,” she says under her breath, eyes darting to Lip and back to Ian. “Shit.” 

Link. _It’s okay. He won’t tell anyone._

She nods, just a tiny bit. She still tucks it all under her head and pulls the covers up. “Did something happen? With him? Did you guys…” 

Ian nods. 

“What?” Lip says. He crosses to the dresser and puts his cigarette out. “How did I not know this shit?” 

Ian shrugs. “I didn’t tell you.” 

It’s quiet a moment. 

Ian is surprised at his quiet voice. “I don’t want him taking copper,” he says. “I feel like it almost make me nauseous.” 

“I know,” Elizabeth says. “If...if he’s compatible, any change in scent will affect you like that. But Ian,” she swallows. “Ian, you have to face that he might not stop taking it. He could start taking other things as well.” She rubs at her forehead. “God, I wish I knew what he was taking. I wonder if I could find out.” 

“What,” Lip says. “Break into a clinic?” 

She shrugs. “I bet if I could smell him I might be able to tell.” She puts her hand on Ian’s back. “We’ll have to figure that out. How I could do that.” 

Ian nods. “But how can I get him to stop taking it? I–I hate it.” 

Elizabeth breathes out. Breathes in. “You might just want to tell him. If you’re compatible, he might listen. He’ll know it’s not working. That you’re onto him.” 

Lip pats his pockets. Cigarettes. “I gotta get to back to school. Just came back for some stuff I left? Let me know if you need help, yeah?”

Ian gives him a little salute. He sighs and lays back down. 

It’s quiet. He can hear Elizabeth’s breath, long breaths in, long breaths out. 

“Are you gonna tell me?” 

He turns to face her as best he can. “Tell you what?” 

“What happened with him,” she says. “I know something happened. You screwed up. I could feel it when your brother was in here, but I couldn’t read it.” 

“You wanna link it?” 

“Will I get to have sex with him?” 

He smiles, but his smile fades. “I’ll tell you,” he says. “I’ll tell you everything.” 

*

Today is a new day. That’s what his mom always used to say. Before she ran away. That’s what she said. 

Today is a new day.

He can see him down the hall. He still smells it. The copper. But he feels calmer now that he knows what it means. He sees him arguing with his arms crossed. He gives a shove to the shrimpy freshman nearly shaking in his boots. He’s wearing that brown sweater Ian loves so much. 

He takes a deep breath. 

Today is a new day.

“Mickey,” he says. 

He turns. His expression softens, just a bit, before it hardens again. He turns back to the kid. “Get my money by the end of today, got it?” The kid nods fast. “Good,” he says. 

Mickey doesn’t turn around to find him. His eyes follow the kid down the hall and around the corner. People start filing out of the classrooms. It’s all a din of voices and shoes squeaking, still damp from the snow.

It’s hard, very hard, for Ian not to step closer. Bend his lips into the back of Mickey’s neck, slip his hands around his waist, slip closer, glide them down, take him in his hand. He can feel his eyes pull. He doesn’t even bother with eyedrops anymore.

Mickey heads down the stairwell. Ian follows as if he’s being pulled by the smell of him. Which, in all honesty, he is.  
His arms are crossed again. “The fuck do you want.” 

“It’s not going to work,” Ian says, almost breathless. “You taking copper.” 

Mickeys eyes widen. They race around the stairwell. “I can’t talk about this here.”

“Tough shit,” Ian says. “We’re talking about it.” 

“Will you,” Mickey says, looking around. “Will you shut up about that? Thought I told you this was done.” 

Ian fights the urge to grab him. He can see Mickey breathing heavily, staring at the crotch of his jeans. “You aren’t being subtle with that either,” he says. “Staring.” 

Mickey looks over his shoulder. “Fine,” he says. “Fine, come on.” He starts walking down the stairs again before he looks over his shoulder. “You coming?” 

“Y-yeah,” he says, following after him. “Where are we going?” 

“You’ll see.” 

The bell tones, and everyone disappears. “Mickey,” he hisses. “We’re gonna get caught.” 

“We won’t,” he says. He walks up to a door next to the bathroom. He digs around in his pocket and fishes out a key. He slides it into the lock quickly and opens the door just slightly. “Get in.” 

Ian steps inside but almost right away he’s tripping over things. It’s the janitor’s closet. “Why are we in here? Someone’s–”

“They _won’t,_ ” Mickey snaps. There’s no real use turning on a light. Even if they wanted to, they couldn’t. Ian searches the wall for a lightswitch and can’t feel anything. 

“What about the janitor?” He tries to move closer into the closet but almost trips over the edge of shelf. “Maybe–”

Mickey sighs, annoyed. “Why you think I got a key? I hook him up and he gives me a key.” 

Ian swallows hard. A wave of jealousy. He tries to breathe down the rumble. “Sex? You bring girls here so you can pretend to be some straight beta?” 

“None of your fucking business.” 

Ian sighs. “Fine,” he says. “Fine, I get it. I won’t. I won’t follow you anymore. Promise. Enjoy your literal closet.” He fumbles for the doorknob. 

“Eh,” he says quickly and bats his hand away. “Don’t.” His breath is fast. “I want you to…” 

Ian waits for the end of the sentence, but it doesn’t come. He can’t even see Mickey’s shape. It’s too dark for that. But he can almost feel his skin against his. 

He thinks about linking, that deep link, with Elizabeth. With Clara. He wonders where she is. He wonders what she thinks about. Her own memories. Why she left. What it was like for her to try to move on. Find some other door in the closet, some sort of Narnia. He remembers her in his arms. Elizabeth’s arms? _Their_ arms. Linked. It was beyond a memory. The look on her face, in her eyes. It wasn’t fake. It wasn’t Elizabeth’s perception of how she would look at her. It was real. True. You can’t fake that. 

He swallows. His fingers slowly reach out, just the tips. He’s afraid to move too quickly. “What me to do what?” 

He can feel Mickey’s breath on his face. Ian closes his eyes as his own breath falls deeper. He feels Mickey’s fingers, feels them meet his. He’s shaking. They both are. 

Mickey sighs. “Kiss me.” 

The words are barely out of his mouth. Ian kisses him, slow at first. Slow. Deep. Mickey’s arms find his neck. 

“Mick,” Ian breathes. His lips fall against his neck. Copper. His stomach does a little queasy flip. He pulls back, coughing.

“What’s the–” Mickey says, fingers around his neck. “What’s wrong?” 

Ian coughs again. “It’s the,” he says. “The copper. It’s just…” 

Mickey sighs. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I just had to take it cause…” 

Nothing. 

Ian’s hands are still on Mickey’s waist. Mickey’s hands are still around his neck, but they are leaning back again. 

“Mick, cause why?” 

Mickey’s hands drop from around his neck. “Cause I have to,” he says. “I gotta leave for a few days.” 

“Why?” 

He doesn’t answer at first. “C’mon,” he says. “Let’s just…” 

“But why? Is everything okay?”

Mickey sighs dramatically. “Why don't you put that mouth to use?”

Ian chuckles. “I’m not gonna fuck you in a janitor’s closet,” He immediately cringes at his own words. He expects Mickey to scream at him or punch him in the face. Is it another rejection? One he can’t come back from this time? 

“Who says I want to fuck you?” Mickey says, and Ian can hear the tease in his voice. “I thought we were gonna talk about copper?” 

Ian feels that rumble. “I’m going to fuck you, Mickey. Not here. Not right now. But as soon as you let me,” he breathes. “As _soon_ as you let me, I’m going to fuck you. And I promise,” he squeezes at him. “I _promise_ that I’ll do absolutely anything and everything you want. All night. Or all day. Or both. Whenever. Whatever. All for you. Whatever you need.”

Mickey’s breath hitches. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Ian says. He breathes heavy in his mouth. They kiss, soft, and then harder. They break apart to breathe, and his forehead doesn’t leave Mickey’s. “Please,” he says. “Tell me why you have to leave. I don’t want you to leave. Why?” 

“I can’t say,” Mickey blurts. “I just. I can’t. Not yet.” 

“Not yet?” 

“Not yet.” He can almost see Mickey's hesitation. "When I get back I could, you know. Maybe tell ya." 

"Okay," Ian says. They kiss again. Ian fights the instinct to go further, go faster. This is good. This is good, here, like this. Just like this. He follows Mickey’s lead, just like he should. He feels Mickey’s hand glide against his hair. A slight shiver. 

“I like this,” Mickey says against his lips. He squeezes against his scalp, fingers a tiny pull on the short strands. 

“Like what,” Ian says, another kiss, a soft suck to his lip. “Kissing?” 

“Yeah,” Mickey breathes. “And, um.” His hand squeezes his head again. “This.” 

“My hair?” 

“Yeah,” he pushes out. “That.” He pulls his lips away. “Why’s this funny?” 

“It’s not funny,” he says. “I like it. I like that.” 

He imagines he can see Mickey under lights, blue and purple and pink and his mouth biting at his lip. He would look beautiful like that. In his arms like that. In _his_ arms. His mouth on his. He wouldn’t have to pretend some other guy was him. He’d be right there, in his arms, like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to write some lesbian a/o sex ok? Ok. 
> 
> Don't worry, Mickey will be in full effect next chapter dun dun dun


	5. Pearl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Information is discovered. Safety is promised.

He’s been in this room for at least a half an hour. 

It’s not so much about him being in the room a long time. It’s about how one wall has a giant mirror on it. He knows he’s being observed. That people are watching him. Watching him wait. He stares down at his hands. They’ve always been long. Long fingers. He once fucked a Northside guy who told him he should play piano. He had laughed at it, but sometimes, when he’s like this, he remembers. His nails are strong and clean. The freckles fade as he turns over his wrists and looks at his palms. He breathes in and out slowly. He closes his eyes. 

_She’s right,_ he thinks. _You need to take some fucking responsibility,_ He opens his eyes, looks up from his palms and into the mirror. _If you would have just done everything they told you to do in the first place, you probably wouldn’t even have to be here._

He’s failing. As an Alpha. 

He’s not doing it right. 

-

Elizabeth didn’t say it straightaway, the other day in his bed. He could tell she was being patient with him as he spoke. But by the time he got to the end of what happened with Mickey that day, the time Mickey was directing Ian to knot his mouth, her eyes flew wide. “What?!” 

At first, Ian thought it was because of sex. Too much information, although at this point, they were far, far past the concept of too much information when it came to sex. He made a little crack, one he can’t really remember now, but she shook her head. 

“Ian,” she said. The way she said it stopped his smile in its tracks. “You can’t just do that.” 

“Do what?” 

She took a deep breath and looked at him. “You can’t just reject them like that. Omegas. You don’t have any idea how bad that is to do. It’s dangerous to do that. Really dangerous.” 

“So? Isn’t that what you did with that girl? In the car? Reject her at the end?” 

“No, it’s not the same at all,” she said. She rubbed her eyes. “We had sex. It was fine. We both got what we wanted out of it. Except for my retraction, it was pretty much over. I may have stopped, but a lesbian Alpha stopping before retraction isn’t unheard of. Sure, I was really hurting because of Clara. That’s true of course. But overall? Me and that omega? It was _very clear_ what it was. String-less sex. Literally nameless. It wasn’t at all like that. What you did with Mickey. _To_ Mickey.”

“I read the book later,” he blurted. “I know I didn’t do it right. I know I fucked up. I went to apologize and everything.”

“Yeah?” She sounded like she was getting angry. Was she angry? Shit. She was angry. She sat up in bed. “You should be _counting your lucky stars_ he was even walking around, let alone listened to you. You can’t just _do that_ Ian! Might as well go find a kitten and kick it in the face.” 

Ian cringed. “He seemed like he was mad at me, but he didn’t–”

“No. You need to fucking listen to me,” she said. She poked her finger into his chest hard and looked down at him. “You _cannot_ do that. Can. Not. If you aren’t able to figure your shit out and take your responsibility seriously, then–”

“You sound like you did at the hospital,” he spat. “Thought we were past that shit.” 

She gave him a dismissive breath and shook her head again. “We will _never_ be past,” she prepares to use finger quotes. “That shit. It’s not how it works. We gotta deal with that shit. It’s literally illegal not to deal with that shit. Our shit.”

“Then what do you mean?” Ian moved to sit up, but Elizabeth pushed him down with the slightest flash of her eyes. It was enough to shut Ian up. Alpha. She’ll always be like this, he thought. This strong. “What do you mean ‘responsibility’? I thought I was doing ok?” 

“How could you _possibly_ think that?” 

“It was working out fine,” he said. “I mean, I read the book.” 

She shook her head, forced a little laugh. “What, drugged?” 

He paused. Opened and closed his mouth. 

“Are you fucking _kidding_ me?” Her hiss nearly made him cower. 

It didn’t crash down on him all at once. It was like something falling in bits from the ceiling. It was not being hit by a ton of bricks. It was one brick dropping at a time. He could try and dodge them, but it was becoming clear that blood on his head was going to be unavoidable. 

“I thought it was fine,” he said. “I was fine. Until Mickey I didn’t really have a problem. When he was in juvie I had sex with some guys and they didn’t have a problem. It was like you and that girl? I guess? It didn’t feel, you know, serious.” 

“Uh huh,” she said. Sarcastic. “And what about them? Did they feel like it was serious? Anyone beg you for a knot?” 

“Well,” he said quietly. “A couple people. But I couldn’t, um.” 

“Knot?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You should be able to say it, Ian. Knot. Form a knot.” 

“Uh…knot. Yeah.”

“A guy wanted you to knot him and you didn’t. Was it couldn’t? Or wouldn’t?” 

“I don’t,” he said. “I don’t know.” 

She shook her head. “You _should_ know. How many men?” 

“Maybe, like two? There were a few other omegas but they didn’t ask. I knotted this guy named Kash that I’ve been fucking since I was 14. He’s a beta. It was just that small one.” 

“You had a beta knot? How did you do that? What was different?” 

He closed his mouth. Thought about it. “I guess I just know him better. It didn’t take long. It wasn’t very big and I didn’t really stay in.” 

“How’s it now?” 

He shrugged. “I haven’t fucked him again. I did when Mickey was in juvie, but not since he got out. I don’t want to fuck Kash anymore.” The realization was out of his mouth before he felt it on his tongue. “I don’t want to be with anyone but Mickey.” 

“Okay,” Elizabeth said. “Okay, look. You _have_ to read your book. You’re going to read it right now. Right here. I’m going to stay in this bed with you and you have to read the entire thing. If I see you tuning out or skipping pages I will make you start the whole book over. Do you understand me? This is serious, Ian. Really serious. If you can’t take your responsibility as an Alpha seriously, you aren’t going to last long out here. Someone will call 211 on you and you'll be in lockdown for as long as they want. You really don’t want that to happen. You _have_ to stay in control of your Alpha. It’s hard. Sometimes it’s really, really hard. But you have to do it.” She pauses, swallows. “Do it for Mickey,” she says. 

That’s what gets him. Mickey. He wants to do better for Mickey. He wants another chance. He doesn’t know what the copper is about, but he needs to know. He needs Mickey to know that he doesn’t need to hide, doesn’t need to change. 

He wants to protect him. 

He wants Mickey to know he can protect him. 

“So what do I do now?” She let him sit up–finally–and found his book. “Read this and I’m done?” 

She looked up at the ceiling. “I’m trying to decide,” she said. “I kinda think you should go in, but on the other hand, I don’t want them to drug you too hard.” 

“To the clinic?” 

She nodded. “It’s probably best. I can tell you need to adjust your mood stabilizer. Sorry. It’s true.” 

He picked at the pilled balls of wool on his blanket. “Okay,” he said quietly. He hated the thick weight of shame. That he wasn’t good enough. His mood wasn’t good enough. That he couldn’t control it.

She reached for his hand. “It doesn’t mean anything,” she said. “They’ll probably only up it 50 milligrams. If they do 100, I think you should split it. How’s your sleep?” 

He shook his head. “Kinda off and on. I’ve been really restless whenever Mickey is.” 

Her eyes got a little wider as she nodded. “That’s to be expected if he’s your compatible.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” she said. “So. Okay. Let’s do this, okay? Upped stabilizer. Strength stablilizer is fine. Don’t mention sleep, okay? They’ll just drug you harder and you won’t be as focused on Mickey and what he wants. Just let that go for now, okay? Just try and block. Don’t let anyone link, okay? Just keep blocking. If you get a strong doctor they’ll try to get in. Into you. Whatever you do, _do not_ think about Mickey. Don’t. Just keep thinking about cement. That’s what I do.” 

“Cement?” 

“Or bricks, or whatever. I pick cement because it’s boring and all one color so I don’t get distracted looking at color variations. That’s when I could possibly slip up. It took me a while to figure that out. It’s very hard to do when heavily drugged. It’s really hard to block. It feels impossible.” She swallowed hard. “It feels,” she swallowed again. “No. It _is_...It’s...a violation. After Clara dumped me, I ended up back in the hospital. I was already working there. The hospital. So they moved me to another one. Somewhere I wouldn’t know anyone. So I couldn’t, as they put it, “manipulate anyone.” But yeah. They did it to me. Violated me. Violated me over and over. Kept me drugged enough that I couldn’t fight it.” 

Ian breathed in and out. “What happened? Why did they put you in?” 

She nodded. She wiped the back of her hand on her eyes. “It was bad, Ian. When she left. It got bad. Work was really hard. I hurt myself. A lot.” 

“You mean,” he said. 

“I mean,” she said. “You probably didn’t see in the club, or the car, because it was dark. But.” She slowly reached down and pulled her arm out of her red cardigan, pushed the t-shirt up. There they were. Lines on her skin. She turned her arm over and he saw more lines on the underside of her bicep. She didn’t look up. “There’s more. Those are hidden better. I don’t know why I did it. I mean, I know. But it’s not fair to put it on her. It’s not her fault that I did it. It’s just. It’s just all I felt in control of, you know? I went too deep. I didn’t mean to. It just happened.” 

“Where did you,” he says. “How did you get help? Was anyone with you?” 

She paused. Swallowed hard. She looked down at their hands. “I was at work. And this Alpha came in. A queer Alpha. She chose both the female and the male packets. She was a little nervous, obviously, but it didn’t last long. She had this other quality. It’s hard to explain. She had this...confidence? I guess? Usually when people come in, they’re like you. Kinda deer in headlights? Begrudgingly compliant?” 

His eyes opened wide.

“Sorry,” she said. She attempted a smile, but it didn’t come. “But she was smiling through a lot of it. She chatted with all of us. And the more she was around, the sadder I got. Because I could see me, you know? Not like our evaluations were the same, because I was definitely not like that. Compliant. Remember how they strapped me down? But they told me it was all so they could learn about it? My reaction? Remember that? They said it’s _because_ of I was how I was that things changed with evaluations. And I kept wanting to tell her that. Tell her how it felt. Tell her how lucky she had it. I wanted to tear her down.”

There’s a sound outside. She turned toward the window, but didn’t look back at him.

“The more she accomplished, the more I hated her. I hated that she could smile. I hated that she joked about going into the red room. I hated that she looked beautiful with her eyes blown out and breathing so hard. I hated that she was so compliant that we had plenty of time left over. Enough that we decided to just go ahead with the physical evaluation. She ran faster and longer than me. She wasn’t as tall as me, but she was lighter? More fine-boned I guess? Like some sort of bird. She just soared over the walls. 

She turned back to find Ian’s eyes. 

“I hated that she–” Her voice broke. “I hated that she had someone. I forgot to say that. She did. She had someone already. A girl from school. A girl who had already presented omega, and the two of them were hoping and praying she would present Alpha. She had already–she had called her that morning to tell her. The morning of Reveal? She was _happy_ and I _hated_ that she was happy. Hated that she was in love and someone loved her back. I hated that she could touch someone and be happy with someone. A woman. An omega. I hated that she could make love with someone, have someone forever. Someone who liked who she was, not _what_ she was. Is. Not _because_ she was Alpha. Just because she was herself. Loved all of her. I hated her. I hated them. Because I didn’t have that. Anymore. And I couldn’t do that.”

“Have you seen her again? At the club or whatever?” 

She shook her head. Her voice had a twist of sarcasm, a rumble of jealousy. “Why would I? They’re probably bonded by now.” 

“I’m sorry,” Ian said softly. 

“That’s not all,” she said. “She kept looking at me strangely. All through the exam, she just kept staring at me. It was like she was just really, really interested. Bewildered, maybe? When we were finished, I had her sit down at the table while the nurses filled the book and I assembled her medications. She was going to be lower doses. Of everything. She was so aware. So pleasant. She didn’t fight it. She accepted it, immediately. I hated that. I mean,” she paused, trying to think of the right words. “I love being an Alpha? I think? I mean, it makes a lot of sense to me. That I am. It suits me. Fuck, I even looked like this as a kid. Tall like this. Striking like this. People have always used that word. _Striking._ My hair and my eyes, mostly. Striking always felt like a violent word to me. But anyway. It wasn’t a surprise. I know that. But sometimes I wish I could just...not be. Or I wish I was a weaker Alpha. I wish people would just leave me alone. I wish I could just...I don’t know. Disappear in the crowd?” 

Ian nodded his head slowly. “Yeah? 

She nodded. She pulled her hair forward and combed at the ends. “So this girl. She smiled when I come up to the table with her meds. That’s when I felt it. It was really weak, but I felt it.”

“Wait,” he said, eyes wide. “Link?” 

Her eyes flashed black. “Link. And she was smiling. Proud. And I was furious. It was just one more thing. One more thing she could do better than me. Right off the bat. I knew that she wouldn’t be as strong as me, overall. But the fact that she was _happy?_ ” She shakes her head. “That she had someone?” She blinks at her eyes but they don’t go back. She started breathing harder.“ It’s not fair of me. I know that. I felt guilty for being so angry at her. She didn’t do anything to me. But I couldn’t help it.” 

“So how did you,” he said carefully. “Was that why you…” 

She shrugged. “As soon as Adam brought her–” 

“Wait,” he said. “Who’s Adam?” 

“Ohhhh,” she said slowly. “Right. Okay. Adam is the guy with the glasses? Dark hair? From the hospital?” 

He nodded. “Oh, okay. Yeah, I remember.” 

“Don’t tell anyone.” 

“I know.” 

“Okay,” she said. “So Adam brought her upstairs. I excused myself to the bathroom, and of course I had this little tool in pocket. Like a utility knife? I went too deep. I hadn’t done it on my wrist before. I didn’t get that I had to be more careful. In retrospect that’s really stupid of me. To not remember that. I don’t think I was thinking clearly. I mean, obviously.” 

She cleared her throat. “After I. I just stared at myself in the mirror. I looked so...confused. But I opened the door. It was like I was sleepwalking as I walked down the little hallway. I saw Adam getting out of the elevator. That’s the last thing I remember. I woke up at another hospital. Adam said he was trying to get them to just keep me at our hospital, but the suits sent over an ambulance and took me away. I was cuffed to the bed again. Hard. They cuffed me so hard. And the bandage was right under one of the cuffs. So I couldn’t even struggle. If I tried to pull, it would make my wrist hurt. Pull the stitches. “I was there, in and out of a drug haze, until my wrist healed.”

“Holy shit,” Ian breathed. 

She nodded. She hesitated, but then pulled up her other cardigan sleeve. The scar. “So I’m not–I’m not as strong as you’d think. That makes me weak. What I did. I haven’t done it since, but I want to sometimes.” 

He touched it. The scar. “You’re not weak,” Ian said softly. “You’re not.” 

“I _am_.” There was a slight growl to it. She slipped her cardigan sleeve down again. “But I’m working on it.” 

Ian looked at her hands. Her nail polish. 

“Can I link you?” he asked quietly. 

She nodded. Her stared into her cool grey-blue eyes. He didn’t think the words more than he just let the wave come over him and splash against her. He could feel his face soften. 

Her voice was soft. “It’s not weird. I feel the same way. I love you, too. I’ll protect you, too. I trust you.” She squeezed his hand. “We’re...we’re pack.” 

He nodded. “Pack,” he said, the word strange but pleasant in his mouth.

She picked up the book and pushed it into his hands. “You’re not getting out of this though, by the way. Read. Now. Then you go see him. Tell him you know he took copper.” 

Ian opened the book and began to read. 

-

So here he is, sitting there. Waiting. Remembering. Remembering how he finished, how he planned to find Mickey. Ask about the copper. He remembers kissing Mickey in the closet, trying so hard to smell him deeply below the copper on his skin. 

_When I get back I could, you know. Maybe tell ya._

His head jerks up when someone enters the room. 

“I’m sorry,” the doctor says. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

Something rises in Ian. Fast. He doesn’t trust this doctor. Not at all. There’s something in the way he looks at him. It’s like he can see all the way to his bones. It’s like he’s preparing to trap him. Maybe take him away. Maybe strap him down, just like Elizabeth. Maybe–

“I’m Doctor Miller,” he says. “I work in conjunction with South Side A/B/O hospital.” He looks down at his folder. “Is it correct that you went to South Side when you had your evaluations?” 

“Yes,” Ian says quickly. He feels a strange sensation. A tiny headache, followed by a tingling in his neck, as if it’s going numb. 

Doctor Miller’s eyes are brown. Not black. Brown. But it’s impossible to read him, for a minute. They are so dark brown that it’s hard not to imagine them black. They press on his before he looks back down at his chart. 

The numb feeling begins to spread, spread down his arms.

“Stop it,” Ian says. 

Doctor Miller looks up again. “Stop what, Mr. Gallagher?” 

Ian clenches his jaw. 

Cement. 

“Is there a problem, Mr. Gallagher?” 

He doesn’t respond. 

His head begins to throb at the temples. He starts breathing heavier. He can’t help it. Did they hear him? Inside there? Inside the room on the other side of the mirror? He was thinking about Elizabeth. He was thinking about Mickey. He was thinking about how many mistakes he made. He was thinking about how he wasn’t doing the right things. How he studied hard. How he knows, now. He’ll do better. He has to. 

Protect Mickey. 

He reaches up and rubs at his temple. 

Cement. 

It’s a grey expanse, all the same texture. He focuses on one square, like a brand new sidewalk. No cracks. Nothing written there. Clean. 

“It appears to me,” the doctor says, voice low. “That you are struggling with your moods. Have you experienced mood swings? Bursts of anger?” 

Jack. The locker. 

“No,” Ian says firmly. 

The doctor pulls a sheet of paper out of his folder. “It seems that you had an altercation at school with a Jack Malecki?” 

His breath comes faster. The school? The school reported him? “I mean, we had kind of a fight, but it was over fast. It was a misunderstanding, you know? Not a mood swing. He didn’t–we didn’t–I mean, it wasn’t like that.” 

Cement. 

“This paper,” the doctor says, waving it, “tells a different story.” He looks down. “It appears that you instigated a fight and repeatedly and heavily,” he looks up again “quote ‘slammed’ him against a metal locker? The following day the other boy had extensive bruising. Were you aware of that fact?” 

Ian swallows and shakes his head. “I didn’t know that.” 

“Are you aware that the boy had to visit his local clinic for medicated cream for his skin and an ultrasound on his lower back to check his kidneys? He had blood in his urine and it was discovered he had bruised kidneys. Are you aware of that?” 

Holy shit. 

“Um,” he stammers. “No. Nobody said.” 

“I also see here that it took two teachers to break up the beating? One to shield the other student from you? You _are_ aware that teachers are required to be strong Alphas, aren't you?”

“Yes,” Ian says quickly. His brain is still tripping over the word _beating._

The doctor sighs. “It is very common for young Alphas to get into fights, especially physical altercations.” He gestures at him with the paper. But this, Mr. Gallagher. This is _not_ common. This is abnormal. And I am concerned that this is just the beginning for you. It is highly likely you will not be able to contain your anger and rage response if this is your first example. Do you understand me?” 

Ian nods. Fuck. “I’m sorry,” he says. He looks at his lap. “I didn’t know. He didn’t say anything. He was walking around like normal. He didn't even miss school! He–” 

“Well, it’s not worth talking about with him. You keep your distance. Your Alpha may be unable to let the altercation go and want to begin again.” 

He shakes his head hard. “No,” he says. “No, I’d never do that again. I should apologize. I can’t believe I–”

“Mr Gallagher,” the doctor snaps. His voice deepens. It almost makes him cower. Almost. “That is enough.” 

His head hurts so badly he has to close his eyes. “Stop,” he whispers. 

“Stop what?” 

“Doing that,” he says, breathing harder. “Trying to get in my head. It hurts. I don’t like it. Stop.” 

He tries to see it. Tries to see cement. He can’t see it. He can’t see anything. He tries to think of Elizabeth. Elizabeth pops into his mind, pops in and out. He tries to keep her there. In his mind. Elizabeth’s fingers. Her fingernails. Anything. He can’t. 

He can’t. 

The doctor’s voice fills the room. Loud. Unavoidable. “This is for your safety. You must allow us to examine you. Do you want to be admitted to the hospital?” 

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Would he cry? Possibly. 

He shakes his aching head. “N-no,” he says. He’s gritting his teeth. 

“I’m going to give you a sedative,” the doctor says. “You lie back there and the nurse will be here shortly.” 

“I don’t want one,” he says, desperate. “Please. You don’t need to get in my head. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

The doctor shakes his head. No. “Just relax, Mr. Gallagher.” He crosses over the the mirror and knocks against it. “This will not put you to sleep. It will probably make you groggy, but not unconscious. We just need to use it because you are noncompliant.”

Cement. Please. Anything. Elizabeth's hands. Her hands. Anything to make him feel stronger. It cuts in and out. Her hands. Her face. “I'm compliant! I am!”

A nurse comes in with a tray. “We can’t chance it, Mr. Gallagher. You now have a documented history of violence. You are not compliant with medication.”

“But I came here! I know it wasn't right so I came here.”

He shakes his head. He hands him a small cup with a green pill in it. 

“I'm not, I'm not gonna take that. You can't make me take that.” He feels a tiny pull in his eyes. Fuck. He closes them quickly. 

He feels his stare. His eyes. He sees a similar flash in the doctor’s eyes. 

Doctor Miller looks over to the nurse. “I think we’ll be needing the injection.” 

“No,” Ian says. His voice cracks, despite the pull in his eyes. Scared. He’s scared and feels adrenaline. This is what Elizabeth has told him. Feeling scared and cornered can bring out a rage response. It can be hard to scare an Alpha.

He’s scared. 

“No,” he says again. “Please.” 

It’s another thick needle. It sticks into his neck. His neck that feels numb from the effort of blocking his mind. The first thing he feels is a lifting feeling. He can almost feel the doors and windows in his brain opening, one by one. He opens his mouth. Air fills his mouth, fills his lungs. He hears a sound rising from his mouth. A heavy, wild sound. It is a moment before he feels the wetness on his face. Tears. 

There is a scraping sound in his head. He can almost feel a stinging. He can’t hold his mind. He can’t feel the edges. Another sting. A scrape, like a rusty shovel scooping up all the little pieces of him. The ones he was trying to hide. From this. This doctor standing there, looking down at him. Ian watches his shaky hand reach out slowly, reach for the doctor’s coat. The doctor grabs at his fingers. “Restraints,” he calls out. 

The door opens and another nurse comes in with leather cuffs in her hands. Her hands are cool when she picks up her left hand and presses his wrist to the side of the table. The doctor does the same to his right. 

“That’s better,” the doctor mutters. “This will be easier for us now, won’t it Ian? Try to relax. This works better if you’re relaxed.” 

There’s that scraping feeling again. Ian tries. He tries so hard. Cement. Elizabeth’s fingernails. His pillow. The smell of his pillow. Elizabeth again. Cement again. He can hear himself, hear himself wailing. His fists clench and unclench. Nothing. Scrape. Scrape. 

Through the haze he can hear a knock, and then quiet voices. He can’t tell how many there are. He can’t distinguish any of them. The doctor stays by his side. Ian hears him say “Will you need assistance, Doctor Pearl?” 

A voice. Oh please. Oh please let it be real. Please let this not be some buzzing broken confused image in his mind. 

“No,” Elizabeth says. “No, we brought the van. My nurse is outside with the cot. We brought plenty of restraints.” 

“Documentation?” The doctor says, but even in the gathering darkness around the edges of Ian’s eyes, he can hear the slightest hesitancy in his voice. 

He hears Elizabeth’s Alpha. It is all that fills the room. “Ha. Documen _tation_?” There’s a sudden charge to the air, but to Ian it feels like a comforting heavy blanket, like Elizabeth’s heavy arm around his waist when they fell asleep. ““Step down, doctor. This is no longer in your jurisdiction. Uncuff him. Now.” 

Ian feels the sweat on the doctor’s hand when he uncuffs Ian’s wrists. 

Elizabeth enters his sightline, face hard. He can feel her linking, just a little. Soothing. Kind. Not like her words.“Can you sit up, Alpha? Or do I need to strap you down again?” 

“I was,” he slurs. “I thought about the cement, but I–”

She pulls him up to a sitting position and lets him slump. “Quiet,” she barks. “No talking, Alpha.”

He closes his mouth. 

“Is that his file?” she asks

“Yes, Doctor Pearl,” the nurse says. “Do you need his paperwork? 

“Yes. Now, please.” Ian imagines Elizabeth’s eyes flashing. He’s sure they did. Elizabeth pulls at Ian a little closer, but doesn’t take him off the table. “Doctor Miller, I need you to type up a short report about this visit. Are you capable of doing that quickly or should I have you call my superior to relay the report?”

“I will,” the doctor says. They both leave the room. 

“They’re behind the mirror,” Ian slurs. 

“Shhh,” Elizabeth says quietly. “I know. Listen to me, Ian. We’re getting out of here, but I need your help. You need to stop thinking about me. Us. Someone is still over there trying to get into you. Drugging you to link you without your consent.”

“It hurts,” he says. 

“I know, I know,” she says. “Listen.” She gives him a shake. “Listen! Stay awake, Ian. Quick. What el line do you take the most? What’s by your house?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Okay,” she says quickly. “Okay, let me help you. I take the blue line the most. Okay. Think of being on the train with me. The color blue. Just keep saying blue blue blue to yourself, okay?” 

He feels his head bounce back a little. “Blue blue blue,” he says, but he can’t think. Can’t remember what blue even means. 

“Ian,” she says. “Let’s do the stops instead. Do you know the stops? On the pink line? I took the pink line to your house. It’s right by your house, Ian. Do you know the stops?” 

Suddenly he sees a little square in his mind. He pulls it closer, somehow. “The loop,” he says. 

Her voice is fast, quiet. “Stops on the loop? Yeah? Let’s do that. Let’s go in on the pink, see if you remember. I’ll go first. Okay? I used to live off Damen. What’s after Damen? What’s the next stop?” 

“18th,” he slurs. He didn’t even have to think about it. “Then Polk. Then Ashland. Then…”

“Ian, you’re doing so good, oh my god. Okay, I’ll go next. It’s Morgan and then…”

“Clinton. Then loop.” He feels his eyes getting heavier. “Cotton in my head. I can’t hear anything.” 

“Ian,” she hisses. “Open your eyes, okay? You can’t fall asleep. Just a little bit more. Let’s go around. East. Clark/Lake. What’s next? Ian, what’s next?” 

His eyes open when he hears the sound of the door opening. It’s the doctor. “Anything else you need?” 

“No,” she says loudly. “I’ve got it from here. My nurse is in the hall.” 

“Ow,” Ian says. “Your voice is too loud. Why’s it.”

 _I’m linking with you. That’s why it sounds too loud when I talk._ Ian’s eyes roll around as he looks over at her. Her mouth isn’t moving. _I’ve been blocking him this whole time. Blocking all of us. I’m blocking him from me, blocking him from you, and talking and linking with you at the same time. It’s hard to do and I really need to concentrate. Don’t say anything out loud. What’s the next stop? On the train._

“State/Lake.” 

She pulls him to his feet and through the open door. “Thank you,” she says. Out loud. The doctor says something. “We appreciate your cooperation,” she says. Her voice is so strange like this. Loud. Mean. 

“Thank you, Doctor Pearl.” 

He’s out there, out in the hall. The guy with the glasses. Adam. There’s a cot on wheels. Nothing has ever felt better. He sighs when he feels the cool sheet on his skin. “Am I talking out loud?” 

“No,” she says. We’re not. We’re still linking hard, okay? We’re in the elevator, it’s gonna move. Get ready. One more train stop. Randolph. Is that right”

“Wabash,” he says. “You forgot to say Wabash. Randolph/Wabash.” 

“Good,” she says. “That’s perfect.” The elevator hits the ground floor with a jolt. He can feel the cot moving very quickly, hears a hiss as the doors open. 

“I’ll get the back,” Adam says. 

Ian can feel himself falling asleep. There is a jerk and he realizes he’s out in the parking lot at the clinic. They’ve collapsed the bed onto the ground and are shoving him in the back of an ambulance. “Adams,” he says quietly. It’s out loud. He can hear himself, throat dry. He feels himself nodding off again. “‘S weird your name is Adam because the next stop’s Adams.” 

The ambulance has a siren, and it’s loud. So loud. But even above that, he can hear a harsh and nearly breathless coughing. He can feel her hands on him as they take a corner sharply. The coughing continues. 

Adam’s voice carries from the front seat. He must be driving.“You okay, Doctor P?” 

Ian opens his eyes. Elizabeth’s eyes are watery with the effort of coughing. 

“Yeah,” she says when she finishes. “Yeah, that just–it just took a lot out of me. I’m fine. It’s okay.” 

“I don’t know the next stop,” Ian says slowly. He tries to say something else but he can’t figure out how to talk anymore. 

She shakes her head and draws a fingertip against his forehead. “It’s okay, you don’t need to do that anymore. Just rest. I’m bringing you somewhere safe. Not the hospital. I can’t take you to your house, though. I found somewhere else to stash you until you’re feeling a little better. I gotta go back to work. I’ll get meds for you and do some paperwork, and then I’ll check in. Okay?” 

He can’t respond, but he sees her face. She looks exhausted. Pale.

“I can’t be there when you fill it out,” Adam calls back. “It’s too close. If you’re going to falsify–”

“I already told you,” she snaps. “It’s not falsifying. It’s just processing him somewhere else. I’ve got it. I’ve got him, okay?”

“I get it,” Adam says. “I saw your face when you felt him. But come on, P! You shouldn't be able to link all the way to the clinic, let alone from way deep underground. What the hell does it mean? What is he?”

Elizabeth coughs again. “He’s special, okay?”

“Wait, you mean he might be…”

“Maybe,” she says. “It doesn't matter. He needs me. He’s mine.” He feels her fingers pressing into his arm protectively. “They can't have him. I'll die first.”

“If the institute finds out, they’ll-”

“No one is going to find out,” she snaps. “I said I’ve got it.” 

His eyes fight to focus on her face. Mine. Mine. He reaches for her, and she folds her hands with his. 

“Did you hear that?” Her voice is calm, but wavers just slightly. “I've got you,” she says. “I’ve got you.” 

He barely hears it. There is a whittling down in his eyesight, and then black. 

*

It reminds him of Reveal morning. 

The way his eyes shoot open. 

Before he can focus his eyes, there is the smell. The smell on the pillow. The smell in this sheet and blanket that covers him. The smell in the entire room. The smell of–

“Hey sleepyhead,” Mickey says quietly. He’s curled on his side, just like Ian is. “You doin’ okay?” 

Ian’s eyes blink fast. “How did I? How did she?” 

“I don’t really know,” he says. “She didn’t say. She just asked if I was alone and I said yes. She asked my name and when I told her she just sort of shoved you inside. I brought her into my room and she flopped you down here on the bed. You don’t remember that?” 

He shakes his head. “Why, did I look awake?” 

“Guess not.” 

He bites at his lip. “Did she say when she’s coming back?” 

Mickey shakes his head. “She said not to go home. She’d check on you later. Or maybe tomorrow.” 

“She’s,” he says. “She’s kind of like, we’re…”

“Connected,” Mickey says with a sigh. “Yeah, yeah. I know. I read about this. Figured. You formin’ a gang? Crew? Don’t remember what you guys call it.” 

“She said pack?” 

Mickey snorts. “Like a wolf pack?” 

Ian gives a little shrug. He closes his eyes. 

“You okay?” 

Ian takes a deep breath. “I don’t know, honestly. It was really intense. Did she tell you what happened?” 

Mickey shakes his head. “You can tell me if ya want.” 

Ian wants. He tells him everything, all he can remember. His headache. He raises his hand to rub at his head again. It’s like trying to clear the sensory memory. 

“Does it still hurt?” 

Ian drops his hand. “No,” he says. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.” 

Mickey’s hand tentatively reaches up and traces his forehead, his hairline. “Is that?” 

“Yeah,” Ian says. “That’s good.” He stares and stares at Mickey’s eyes before his gaze drops to his mouth. Mickey’s fingers slide more into his hair, and Ian can hear Mickey’s breath deepening fast. There’s the slightest grab at it and then Mickey’s eyes flutter closed. 

Ian’s hand reaches out for Mickey’s side. He races down to his hip before gently sliding over toward his ass. It fits his hand perfectly. Mickey breathes harder. 

“Is it okay if I touch you like this?” Ian’s voice is quick and uneven. “I–I just really want to touch you.” 

Mickey’s upper body bends closer to Ian’s chest. His fingers still slide here and there against his head. “Yes,” he whispers. “Please yes. Fuck.” 

Ian kisses him. Kisses him slowly and fully and _fuck_ his mouth is so perfect. Ian holds him, presses him closer, presses them closer together. His hand leaves his ass and races up his back, gripping him at the neck. Mickey breaks away, panting. 

“Get,” he says, eyes fluttering open. “Get on top of me.” 

Ian nods fast and rolls over him. Mickey’s legs immediately part to give him room. Ian pulls back to look down at him. Look down at Mickey’s hooded eyes, his full lips, his broad chest. Mickey’s hands gliding up and down his arms, leaving goosebumps. It hits him, so fast, such an overwhelming emotion that he can hardly swallow, but he tries. 

He can feel it. His Alpha. It isn’t the same. It isn't like that. What they said. It can’t be dangerous. Can’t be all bad. It can’t be wrong, because it’s part of him. Part of Ian. And Mickey wants him. And maybe–just maybe–Mickey wants _him_ him. Not just his Alpha. Not just _it._ Maybe he wants him. Maybe. 

“You okay?” Mickey’s voice is just above a whisper. 

“I can feel it,” Ian whispers. He swallows convulsively. He finds himself blinking fast. Tears? 

Mickey’s voice is just as soft. “Feel what?” 

“Alpha,” he says. “My Alpha. They said I was dangerous. It feels different. I’m not–I don’t want to be dangerous. I’m–”

“Hey hey hey,” Mickey says. He pulls Ian closer to him. “Don’t listen to them.” 

“It,” Ian breathes. “I can feel it though. Alpha. It wants me to go crawl away somewhere safe. It’s not dangerous. It’s...scared.” He can feel a tear gathering in his right eye. He blinks and it drops. “I’m...I’m scared.” 

Mickey smooths his face with his thumbs. He guides Ian’s head closer. “Tell it you’re safe here,” he says. “You are. Safe. Fuck all the rest of them.”

Their lips meet again, still soft, still slow. Ian can still feel his Alpha, feel it hiding somewhere in the shadows, somewhere, nervous to come out, wounded. He pulls back again, just slightly. “What if I’m not good enough?” 

Mickey’s hand reaches up and glides his thumb from his hairline down to his cheekbone to his chin. “Good enough for what?” 

Blue. His eyes are blue. Blue blue blue. “Good enough for you,” he whispers. 

Mickey’s eyes do something. It’s small, and he’d never be able to explain what happens exactly, but they almost get brighter, just for a second. He shakes his head on the pillow. He reaches up with his other hand, holds Ian’s face in his hands. Ian’s limbs begin to tingle the longer Mickey stares at him. He starts to feel warmer. Warmer still. Mickey is warm. Warmer. It radiates below him. 

“You’re enough,” Mickey says quietly. “You’re more than good enough.” 

Ian turns his head, just slightly, so he can kiss Mickey’s palm. His voice cracks. “Really?” 

Mickey nods fast. “I’m, I think my,” his eyes dart around. His voice is awkward, self-conscious. “My omega, you know. I think it wants...it wants you.” 

Ian’s breath is still shaky. “What about you? Do you want me? You don’t have to, I mean, if it’s just your omega, then–”

“Look,” Mickey says, voice more certain. “My omega _is_ me, okay? Doesn’t mean I have to fuckin’ like being an omega. It sure as fuck makes life harder around here. But...but I know how I feel. Bout you. When I was gone, I couldn’t...I mean, I kept thinkin’ about you. Missed ya.” 

Ian nods fast. “I missed you, too.” 

Mickey pulls him closer. “Kiss me. Get our shirts off and kiss me. Now.” 

Ian’s is off before he has even finished the sentence. He pulls Mickey’s over his head and groans when their chests are bare. Mickey pulls him by his neck, pulls him close, breathes into his mouth. Ian can feel him, feel him hard against him. He got hard so fast. Ian starts to respond quickly. He still moves slowly, still feels every limb tingle as Mickey gets warmer and warmer. Their lips move perfectly. Soft and hard, slow and faster. Mickey’s tongue is soft and his fingertips dance along Ian’s shoulders before pulling him harder on his neck again. 

Mickey breaks away and his head pulls back, so Ian pulls back, too. He throws his head to the side, exposing his neck. “Lick,” he pants, eyes closed. “Lick me. Suck. Please.”

Ian groans. Mickey’s hands slide lower before they creep back in between them, resting on Ian’s hips. Ian almost feels him draw back in, smaller, trying to be completely stuck beneath him. “I want to,” Ian pants. “God, I want that. Is there. What else do you–is there something you want to do that’ll make it better...for you? I wanna do whatever you want. Just tell me and I’ll do it, Mick.” 

There’s a little whine from Mickey. His eyes are closed, teeth biting his lip. He hasn’t moved. His neck is still firmly presented. The more he looks at his neck, the harder he breathes. 

“Take,” Mickey says. “Please. Take our pants off. Wanna feel you.” 

“Yeah,” Ian says softly. He drops his lips to Mickey’s neck. He can’t help it. He licks at him, small little lines, the softest suck. Mickey whines again. Ian backs away and takes his own pants off quickly. He leaves his boxers on. 

“Just you,” Mickey pants. When Ian looks at him, his position hasn’t moved, but his eyes are closed. “Wanna feel all of you.” 

Ian takes the last of his clothing off, shaking, biting back a moan. His fingers find the waistband of Mickey’s sweatpants and pull them down. Boxers too. “This okay?” His voice is low and breathy. He looks back up, and Mickey’s eyes are open and his jaw is dropped. 

“Yeah,” he whispers. His fingers, his hands, reach for Ian, and Ian lets himself by pulled up. “Here,” he says. He pulls Ian’s hands a little higher. “Put ‘em around my head.” 

“You want me to like, kinda cover you?” The image comes into Ian’s mind. What Mickey wants. 

“Yeah,” he whispers again. “Yeah, I want it just like that.” 

Safe. 

Ian arranges himself and finally, finally, finally lets his mouth drop to Mickey’s neck. He follows the sound of Mickey’s voice, his breath, letting his lips pull, his tongue move. Mickey’s hands are still resting near his hips, his fingertips just slightly inside them. It isn’t long before Ian feels how hard the are against each other. One or both of them are leaking. He moans into Mickey’s neck. 

“Thank you for presenting your neck,” he whispers against his skin. His mouth almost says it. The word. He closes his mouth around it. 

“Please,” Mickey whispers. “You can. You can say it. I like it.” 

Ian lets his lips fall again, a little lower, nearing his chest. “Omega,” his whispers against his skin. “Thank you omega.” 

Mickey cries out, so loud, and his legs suddenly part wider. He turns his head, facing Ian with wide eyes. “Can I,” he says. “Can you go on your back?” 

“Of course,” Ian says quietly. “Of course I will.” 

Mickey’s eyes are bluer again, just a moment. When Ian settles on his back, he helps settle Mickey’s knees on other side of him. The blanket around them slides back and Ian knows if he looked down he would see both of their cocks. He can feel them pressed together. Hard heat.

He sees Mickey’s eyes looking at his chest. He glances down, too. He watches Mickey’s fingers tentatively meet the hair covering his breastbone. “Like this,” he says quietly. He glides his fingertips over it, sliding over the space there, touching the hair. His mouth drops open a little more. Ian watches Mickey take in the planes of his chest, sees his gaze fall lower. Mickey slowly moves his fingers down, following the trail of hair from Ian’s chest to his abdomen, his stomach, pausing before he ventures lower, below his belly button. He stops. 

Ian feels his head nodding. He reaches up and gently pulls Mickey down by the neck. “Go ahead,” he whispers into Mickey’s mouth. “Whatever you want. Is that what you want?” 

“Y-yeah,” Mickey says, voice so shaky. “Yeah. Wanna feel you. Get my mouth on you.” 

Sure enough, in a matter of seconds Mickey’s fingers slide lower and he immediately starts moving Ian up and down. 

“Holy _shit_ ,” Ian gasps. 

Mickey laughs, just a little, against Ian’s lips. “Feel good?” 

“Yeah,” Ian pants. “Yeah, really good.” He swallows. 

Mickey leans close to Ian’s ear. “Yeah? Wait til you feel my mouth again, Alpha,” he whispers. Ian moans. Fuck. Fuck. “Wanna taste you again. Get you down my throat again. You want that?” 

He pulls backs Ian has forgotten how to speak. His Alpha is almost motionless, eyes wide, in awe.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” 

All Ian can do is pant around a smile. Nod his head. 

Mickey grins as he moves Ian around, getting comfortable. Ready. He pulls Ian again, slow. He licks up his length before taking him into his mouth completely. He immediately slides low, not all the way, but works him up and down, the perfect pressure. Ian knows he could go all the way if he wanted to, but he’s going to make Ian wait. He couldn’t be happier. Mickey hums around him. Fuck. 

He suddenly feels his eyes pull. Dilation. He looks down at Mickey. When they meet each other’s eyes, Mickey slides deeper, moaning until he can’t anymore, until his throat is filled. Ian’s eyes pull wider and wider. Mickey’s eyes blink up at him fast. Ian closes his, but opens them again when Mickey slides off. 

“I want,” Mickey says, “I want you to keep looking at me. Like that. Your eyes like that.” 

“Yeah?” 

He nods fast as he bends up again, face close to Ian’s as one hand pulls at him again. “You want me? That why they look like that?” 

“God, yes,” Ian says. He kisses him hard. Harder. “I want you, Mick. Be inside you. Fuck you.”

Mickey nods fast. “Gonna knot me?” 

The book said he would do it. It would happen, and he had to just relax and let it happen. Trust in himself. Trust in Mickey. 

He wants to trust. Trust Mickey. Trust himself. 

“Yeah,” he says, the barest hint of a rumble that works its way out of his chest. He grabs the back of Mickey’s neck, the smallest tightening. “I’m gonna fuck you and knot you and make you come all over this bed.”

Mickey moans. “Do it,” he says. “I want that.” He swallows. “Please, Alpha, I want it.” 

“Mmm,” he says, letting his hand drop down. “You getting all wet and ready for me?” His fingers slide against Mickey’s lubrication. His middle finger slides against the crease. “Yeah, you’re wet, Mick,” he coos. “Is it enough? Wet enough to take a cock?”

“ _Your_ cock,” Mickey breathes. It stuns Ian. He wants to fall apart. “Getting ready for your Alpha cock. Fuck.” 

Ian grabs him, and a second later he's thrown Mickey onto his back again. “Get your legs open,” Ian says, just a hint of an order, and Mickey groans as he complies. Ian’s fingers find his hole, feels the slick. He eases in a finger. It goes in easily. So does the second. So does the third. The entire time, he whispers things to Mickey. Telling him how good he feels. Telling him that he’ll make him feel even better. Calling him omega, and as Mickey whines, he calls him omega again. 

“I’m ready,” Mickey pants. 

“I know,” Ian says. He has the barest hint of a growl. He clears his throat. He tries to clear it as he pets Mickey’s skin, gliding his hands up and down. It happens again, rumble in his mouth. He coughs.

“Hey,” Mickey breathes. “Don't gotta do that. I like it. Your voice like that. Your eyes like that. I’m an...I’m an omega. That’s what I fucking like, okay?” 

“Okay,” Ian says. He lets his eyes pull. The rumble rumble. 

“I don’t want you to stop. Please don’t stop.”

Ian shakes his head fast. He nudges at Mickey’s thighs and he brings them higher still. “I’m not gonna stop,” he says quietly. “I’m not gonna stop unless you tell me to stop.” 

Mickey nods fast. “And you’ll, you promise you’ll knot me? Knot me this time?” 

The insecurity. Like the book said. Like Elizabeth said. The omega to be treasured, to be kept safe. 

“I promise you,” Ian says firmly. “I’m going to knot you. I promise I will.” 

He didn’t know Mickey was holding back, holding his breath, holding himself apart from their movements, but once the words are out of his mouth, Ian is amazed. Amazed at how Mickey fully relaxes beneath him. His Alpha is making all sorts of sounds. Excited sounds. Confident. Low. He doesn’t know he’s doing it out loud until Mickey says “Oh my god you sound good.” 

Ian leans forward and nips at Mickey’s ear. “Show me your neck,” he says. Firmly, but kind. “Show me, omega.” 

Mickey shoves his neck aside with another moan. Ian licks against it before biting, not heavy but not light either, and Mickey’s legs shake. “B–be careful,” Mickey says. 

“I am,” Ian says. “I will.” He moves over and repeats it. 

Mickey’s skin gets suddenly very hot, and he slides a hand against Ian’s head. “I fucking want it. Harder.” 

Ian presses harder, just a little harder. His Alpha bursts through some sort of door in his mind, and when he presses down on his neck, he can hear Mickey’s heartbeat, his quickened heartbeat, in his mouth and against his teeth. There’s something in Mickey’s skin, something that was missing before. The _taste_ of who Mickey is, deep down. Underneath. Omega. Purely omega. Mickey gets even hotter as he cries out, holding onto Ian’s head harder. Tighter. “Yes!” 

Ian pulls away with a hard gasp. He shakes his head fast. “I’m sorry, I just...I was scared I might…” 

He watches it dawn on Mickey. How close it was getting. How close to what their bodies want. Alpha. Omega. Bonding urge. Claiming bite. A bite to the omega’s neck, a swipe of the tongue to help heal it over. Sealed. Together. Bound together for life. 

He thinks he hears Mickey, but he can’t be sure. He thinks he hears the words _not yet_ but he doesn’t know who they came from. 

Mickey nods. “It’s okay. It’s okay, I get it. Let’s go.”

“You sure you’re ready?” Ian slides his cock against Mickey’s hole. He feels his legs shake. 

Mickey breathes so fast. “Yeah. Want you. Fill me. Knot me.” 

It’s not like he has decades of sexual experience behind him. But he has enough to know that this, this initial push into Mickey, is beyond any other thing he has ever experienced. He slides in perfectly. Mickey is perfectly stretched around him. The perfect wetness, the perfect angle. 

What’s more, he can see it on Mickey’s face too. His eyes wide, mouth open. “Oh my god,” he breathes. 

They are quiet and still, and then not so quiet. Not so still. Their movement seems practiced, natural. That word again. Perfect. Mickey feels perfect. Like he was waiting for this. This acceptance, this experience. Like he was waiting for him. For Ian. For Mickey. 

In the end, he doesn’t even have to think about it. The first swelling isn’t so noticeable. He can’t really feel it. He only knows that when he thrusts into Mickey, it’s not quite as smooth as before. 

He only knows when Mickey’s eyes open fast and meet his. “Ian,” he gasps. His mouth is open. He doesn’t say anything. 

“Is it–” Ian pants, “Are you okay?” 

He nods and nods. His hands move from Ian’s arms and slide against his shoulder blades. “S’ gonna be big,” he moans. “Yeah, I want it. Give it to me.”

He feels it then, growing quickly. Is it responding to Mickey? Can it do that? Because the more noise he makes, the more Ian can smell Mickey’s sweat engulfing his senses, the more firm he feels at his base. 

He glances down and almost stops. It’s big. Bigger than it’s been before. He moans as he sees Mickey start to take him in, his body trying to swallow him, but not quite. “Oh, Mickey,” he breathes. He looks up again, into Mickey’s eyes, before kissing him, sweet and slow. He presses a bit harder into him, a harder push of his hips. He can feel the resistance. 

“I’m trying to be,” he says. “I want to be careful. I don’t want to go too hard. I–”

Mickey chases his mouth. Ian feels a loosening. He eases in just a little more. He can still feel the swell. He is trying not to panic over it. He’s doing it. It’s going to be okay. He has to trust himself. He takes a breath.

“Can you open up more?” He kisses Mickey softly as he presses against him harder. Harder. 

“Yeah,” Mickey breathes against his lips. He closes his eyes and does something. A little fast breath, eyebrows raised. Ian feels him loosening around him, loosening enough for Ian to go from his hips pushing hard to slowly meeting him completely. 

He’s inside Mickey. His knot is inside Mickey. 

“Oh my god,” he breathes. He feels how hard his eyes have blown. “Mickey, thank you. Thank you, that was so good.” 

Mickey nods fast. “More,” he says. “Keep fucking me. Give me more.” 

His Alpha is all legs and arms, all heat and gratitude. Ian’s knot is still growing. It’s a sudden thought. Not time to lock yet. Not time. Mickey wants more. He will give him what he needs. What he asks for. 

The slide back is easier, but pushing in again means more resistance. But the more he moves back and forth, the more he snaps his hips against him, the looser Mickey feels. In a good way. Like acceptance. Invitation. They are both so loud, arms and hands all over each other. Ian sits up a bit and pulls Mickey closer by his thighs. Deeper. 

“I can see you,” Ian growls. “I can see your body taking my knot. It’s getting bigger, can you feel it?” 

Mickey nods wildly before he breaks out a cry. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, so fucking big, Ian. Alpha.”

At the word, Ian feels his base swell so heavy that he knows it’s time. Really time. “Open up, omega,” he grunts. “Now.” 

Mickey howls and scratches at his back. “Yeah,” he cries. “Knot me. Come in me.” 

Ian does. He pushes hard. There is resistance, then less, then just a little. Then he locks in, accepted into Mickey’s body completely. Through a haze he bends to suck hard at Mickey’s neck. He doesn't use his teeth. He remembers. No claiming. Not yet. 

Ian hears a deep scream, feels Mickey’s fingernails on his back, feels Mickey gasping against his cheek, shuddering everywhere. No words, just sound and sweat and uneven breath. He feels an intense pull. His eyes cannot focus. He does not know what they look like. 

Ian feels an unraveling. A long breath, a long unraveling. It spirals out and out like a ribbon.

It’s him. He’s still coming inside Mickey, and he can feel Mickey’s insides almost flutter, almost guiding the come out of him. He doesn’t know how long he’s been coming, but knows the first time is usually the longest. He looks down at the pool of come on Mickey’s stomach. Mickey bends up slightly, gasps a few short sounds, and comes again. 

Ian feels the unraveling slow down, but not stop. He stays locked. He will come again. “Are you okay?” He smooths Mickey’s hair back. 

Mickey nods. He nuzzles into Ian’s hand, and his Alpha responds. The Alpha in him is purring, purring to take care of the Omega, to take care of Mickey, a slower way, a softer way. Ian begins to softly draw his fingers up and down Mickey’s body. He gazes down at him from where he props himself up above his body, still locked together. Mickey shivers, and Ian continues to pet him, saying soft words. They leave his mouth without thinking, without effort. He hears himself calling him omega, and beautiful, and good, so good, so perfect. Mickey’s eyes are soft on his, closing as he breathes deeply and leans into Ian’s touch. 

Mickey's fingers glide up Ian’s back. “Are _you_ okay? His voice is clear and soft. His fingers slide down again, lower, and he softly takes hold of Ian's ass. He doesn’t pull, just holds his hands there. 

Ian nods. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, I’m okay.” 

Mickey’s eyes close and he breathes deeply. “God, I’m really fucking full, man.” The corners of his mouth tick up, just shy of a smile. 

Ian chuckles softly, careful not to move. He doesn’t want to hurt Mickey, jostle them too much. “I can’t believe how open you got. Or are, I guess. Does it hurt?” 

Mickey shakes his head. “Feels good. Fuck that was good.” 

“Yeah?”

Mickey squeezes Ian’s ass, just once, and lets go. “Hell yeah. Your knot is fucking huge though, holy shit.” 

Ian smiles. “You wanna know what’s weird?” 

“What, that you can even zip your pants shut around that thing?” 

“No,” Ian says, smiling wider. “It’s weird because I’ve never ever knotted that big. I’ve barely – I mean I haven’t really done that. Done this before.” 

Mickey raises an eyebrow. For a minute he feels like he said the wrong thing, like he shouldn’t have alluded to any past sexual experience. He’s about to talk again before Mickey’s eyes soften. His voice is soft. “Really? You haven’t?” 

Ian kisses him. “No, I haven’t,” he says. “Not like this.”

He sees it in Mickey’s face. A proudness. A preening. He kind of loves it. 

“You were amazing,” Ian says, sliding his fingers against Mickey’s cheek. “I’m glad I could–I mean, I’m glad we. Thank you.” 

Mickey’s hand finds his head. “You can come again,” he says quietly. “In me. If you want.” 

It’s not even a wave. It’s instantaneous. One second he is inside him, quietly talking to Mickey, and the next he’s pressing closer, his knot still locked, trying to get even closer while he comes hard. He feels a growl go. He doesn’t try to contain it. 

It’s his turn to be petted. Mickey’s fingers are everywhere. He pulls him to his lips, kissing in between words. Words like Alpha. The words _So strong. Took such good fucking care of me._ And it’s so much he would probably cry if it didn’t feel like every single door, every single cell in his body, was completely open, bare. 

He feels what it is. Alpha. It’s not like they said. Dangerous. It’s not about destruction. It’s not. When it’s like this. When _he’s_ like this, he just wants to be good. He just wants to do all the right things, keep him safe. He feels his adrenaline pumping when he even _thinks_ about something bad happening to Mickey. The thought makes his mind race a little. He feels himself holding onto Mickey tighter. 

“I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you,” Ian says desperately, quickly. He paws at him, touching anything he can touch. His fingers rest on his neck, and Mickey turns his head immediately. His lips fall right away. He doesn’t bite. His nose nudges around. He covers every tiny bit. The memory of Elizabeth imagining Clara in the club comes into his mind. He’s doing the same thing. Nose carefully searching every tiny place. Looking for someone else. Just in case. 

He only smells strange in one little place. Up in his hairline at the very back of his neck. It's weak. He can’t quite place it. 

“Copper,” Mickey mumbles. “The last of it. I was wondering if you could still smell it.” 

Ian pauses to bring his head back. “I didn’t until now. What was it for, Mick? You said you’d tell me.” 

Mickey sighs. He adjusts his body a little but hisses when the knot pulls with him. “It’s hard to explain. Can we just talk about it later?” 

Ian ignores it. “She said,” Ian says, swallowing. “She said you were trying to reset your scent. Or hiding it. Why?” 

“Outta town,” Mickey says. “Can’t risk it. I take it sometimes. Not a big deal.” 

“You won’t need it,” Ian says quickly. “I can take care of you, Mick. You–”

“No,” Mickey says. “I mean, thanks. But it’s not that simple. No one can know I’m.” 

“But you pass,” Ian says. “You pass as a beta. How? Are you on a bunch of meds?” 

“Yeah,” Mickey breathes. He keeps touching him, slowly, places here and there. “But if you could smell me, then other Alphas woulda been able to, too. When I–”

The realization flashes in his head. What it is. What he means. 

“A heat,” he breathes. “You had a heat.” 

Mickey just stares at him. Not saying yes, not saying no. Just staring. And that answer is enough. 

“Mick,” he whispers. “Why didn’t you–I mean, I was here. I would have. I could have, you know?” 

He shrugs, his eyes flick down and stay there. “Wasn’t sure after, you know. Before. Thought about it when we was in the janitor’s closet, but I knew it wouldn’t be the same if I stayed. The copper was too much for you.” 

Ian holds him tighter. His eyes close and open. He feels like someone ripped every inch of muscle off of him, all the way to the bone. 

He failed. 

“Fuck,” Ian says. The tears rise in his eyes. His Alpha runs and runs, blind, knocking into things. “I fucked up. I knew I fucked up. I should have known better. That we could have set one off.” 

“Set one off?” His eyes are wide. 

Ian nods. "I saw in the book. Saw that if we were compatible, we could set one off? A heat? Despite the meds?” 

Mickey clears his throat. He turns away. Not presenting, just avoiding Ian’s eyes. “You saying we’re compatible? How would you know?” 

Ian’s fingers find Mickey’s chin, gently pulls him back. His voice is soft. “Come on, Mickey,” 

They stare. Ian shudders, just a little. He wants to come again, but somehow he ebbs it back. His arms shake with the effort. He closes his eyes. 

“I know,” Mickey says. It’s so soft Ian can barely hear it over his heart beating loud in his ears. “I feel it, too. Just don’t know what the fuck we’re supposed to do about it. Not safe. Not here.” 

“I can keep you safe. I know I can. But I can’t keep you safe if I can’t smell you.” His voice is soft as he pets him . “I didn’t like it. I got scared. I don’t know if you can smell me most of the time, but I can smell you. You smell good. You’re all.” He pauses. Might as well say it if he’s come this far. “You’re all I can smell. I want you. I want you all the time. I want to keep you safe.” 

Mickey’s eyes are wide. He nods. “I know,” he says. His hands slide back onto Ian’s head. “I won’t do that anymore. Not now.” 

It’s a little flash. Those words. “Not now?” 

Mickey nods. “Now that we’re.” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t know. That okay?” 

Ian answers him with his mouth, firm lips, soft tongue. He comes again, releases back into Mickey’s body, shaking everywhere.

“Touch me,” Mickey says, and Ian does. His hand slips between them, and he grips Mickey tight, working him, still whispering in his ear. Mickey holds his breath when he comes, mouth open, chin pushed back. 

“Mine,” Ian whispers. “You’re mine.”

“Yes,” Mickey says with his eyes closed, the slightest nod. “Yes.”


	6. I'll See Ya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desperation. Complication. Suspicion.

It’s the growl in his throat that wakes him. When he opens his eyes, he finds his nose in the sheets, hand reaching out, hips subtly rutting against nothing. He sits up. The growl comes again, punctuated with his eyes flying around the room. 

“Where are you,” he says, low, almost to himself. Not very loud. He knows he doesn’t need to be loud. He knows that as long as they are in this house, Mickey should be able to hear him.

Feel him. 

Ian’s hard. So hard he feels like he could leak any second. The image of Mickey on his knees, sucking him all the way down, flashes in his mind. Another growl. He strokes himself before his head tilts, ears perked up. He can hear water running in the bathroom. 

He fumbles with his boxers. Putting them on makes him feel so slowed down. He should be there already. He should already be with Mickey. On Mickey. In Mickey. 

He bangs the bathroom door open and Mickey jumps. “The fuck!”

Ian chuckles. He likes Mickey’s smile, his little laugh. Mickey’s hands slide over Ian’s shoulders as he crowds him against the sink. He can see marks on Mickey’s back in the mirror. Bruises from his mouth. Beautiful. His. “Good morning,” he whispers into his neck. Mickey’s breath is fast. The room is full of steam, heavy against Ian’s chest. “Where did you go?” He grabs at Mickey’s damp hips and pulls him closer. 

Mickey scoffs. “I needed a shower. I was kind of, you know, covered with-”

“Covered with me,” Ian says. He holds his hips tighter. “Covered with me and you.”

“Yeah,” Mickey says lightly. He smiles. His breath is fast when Ian finds his mouth. Ian feels Mickey’s hands traveling down. He laughs lightly against his lips when he tries to pull the boxers off. Fails.

Ian’s fingers glide down Mickey’s back before they grip Mickey’s ass. Grab at his skin. He squeezes hard. He doesn’t have to look to remember the bruises there. Bruises from last night, from early morning. Holding him open wide with both hands, licking and sucking at his ring as he moaned. Holding him wide before grabbing him tighter, fucking into him harder and harder, listening to everything Mickey said, asked for. Wanted. His words over and over. _I want. Fuck. Please. Need._ A hard swat to the back of his thigh that made him keen and press back harder. 

Mickey hisses as he grabs at his skin. 

“Too much?” Ian hears his voice. Not cocky, just him. Concerned. He wants to take care of him. “Hurt?” 

Mickey moans as he shakes his head. “Feels fucking good. More.” He keeps pulling at Ian’s boxers but they aren’t going anywhere. “Want you.” 

Ian bends away to slide them off. Mickey makes a high sound the moment Ian’s dick is uncovered. “Oh fuck,” Mickey says. His fingers reach for it. He licks his lips. He begins to dip down, hands reaching for Ian’s hips, but Ian stops him. 

“No,” he says. He hears it in his voice, then. Alpha. A little. Not angry, just holding onto the situation. The word control isn’t right. It feels firm, but only in the way that Mickey needs. 

In the way that Mickey needs Ian to take care of him. 

MIckey’s gaze is still on fixed on Ian’s cock. He licks his lips repeatedly. 

Ian takes his chin in his hand. voice soft. “You wanna suck me, omega?” 

Mickey’s head dips back, just a second. He doesn’t even answer. He just licks his lips again. 

Ian nods. “Thought so.” 

“Whadda you,” Mickey says. He tries to clear his throat. “Whadda you want?” 

Ian hums and glides his thumb against Mickey’s parted lips. “I want you,” he says evenly. “Wanna fuck your ass. How do you want it, Mick?” 

“Ha-hard,” he whispers, his eyes hooded. “Really fuckin’ hard. Deep.” He draws a shaky breath. His hands begin to paw at Ian’s chest. He pets at the hair there, fingers tracing down all the way down, tracing the bit of public hair near the base of his cock. He can’t speak. He just keeps touching his hair. One hand on his body, the other hand reaching for his head. 

“That feels good, Mick,” he says quietly. “Like that you touch me like that.” 

“Yeah?” 

Ian nods quickly. “Especially on my chest,” he says. “Crossing my nipples like you did last night.” 

Mickey gives a little whine. His hand leaves his cock and glides up Ian’s body to do just that. Ian tips his head back with a hum. Ian closes his eyes. They pop open when he feels Mickey’s breath on his chest. He pulls at his nipple gently. 

“Can I,” Mickey says quietly. “It okay if I suck you first?” 

Ian pulls him away by his hair. “Yeah,” he says, a smile, a nod. His fingers glide against Mickey’s skin. He shivers. “Get me wet so I can fuck you.” 

MIckey immediately drops to his knees and takes him in. 

He will never tire of this. He can’t. It is so overwhelming, watching him like this. Feeling his mouth, his throat. He lets his hand float to the back of Mickey’s head. He doesn’t pull him. He just slides his fingers into his hair. Mickey would probably moan if he had room. 

He lets him continue, panting hard. He can feel things about to shift, about to grow deeper, and he worries, just a little, enough. Ian isn’t ready to knot his mouth, but he’s hopeful he’ll be able to soon. Probably soon. Mickey said he loves it. Said he wants it. He can feel that Mickey wants it, even though he didn’t bring up after that day Ian did everything wrong. So Ian brought it up. Last night. He asked Mickey if he could have a little time. A little time to get ready for it. Make sure he felt confident in himself. 

Because it’s not just about the omega. They are the focus, always, of course. But the Alpha has to feel confident, too. Because Alphas want to serve. They want to give, and share, and comfort. But they still have insecurities. They still need practice. They still have to let go. He’ll get there. Just not today. 

“Mick,” he groans. He pulls at his hair, just a little bit, eyes pulled out and a growl in his throat. “You gotta - you gotta get up.” 

Mickey blinks up at him. His mouth is full. There is a beautiful bulge in his throat that Ian traces lovingly. 

“Please,” Ian whispers. “God, I need you up here.” 

Mickey slides his mouth up, almost all the way off, but dips back down, more shallowly, twice, three times. 

“Now,” Ian rumbles. Mickey’s hands hold onto him and scramble against his skin as he lets him leave his mouth. He nearly climbs up Ian’s body. Ian grabs him sharply and turns him around, his front pressing against Mickey’s back. Mickey’s hands braced on the sink. “Look at yourself,” Ian says gruffly. “Look how fucked out you look, Mick.” 

He watches Mickey’s eyes fight to focus. They both breathe hard. Ian doesn’t say anything else. Not at first. He is trying to hold onto his own mind. He sees his eyes, blown black, of course, a tiny ring of gold at the edge. He watches Mickey find his eyes in the mirror. Immediately, Ian starts gliding his hands against Mickey’s chest, holding onto him as Mickey starts to rock softly backward. Ian moans. He can almost see a color, but he can’t tell which. Blue. Light blue. Blue blue blue. Ian hears himself sigh as his lips drop to Mickey’s neck, the softest kiss against the marks he can see in the mirror. “Oh Mickey,” he whispers against his skin. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” 

It hits him, just barely, just beneath it all, that he would have never in a million years guessed that he’d be telling Mickey fucking Milkovich that he was beautiful. To his face, that is. He would have never guessed that he would be falling to pieces over him, calling him omega as he fucked him, daring to call him “mine.” He would have never believed it. But, like Elizabeth said, at a certain point there is no Before-before. There’s only what is. And it’s different. And it’s perfect. 

He says it again. “So beautiful,” he says, licking at him. “Omega. Such a beautiful omega.” 

Mickey whines, pushes back that much more. “Eh.” 

For a moment he thinks he might have said something to much. Too far. “Yeah?” 

“I’m ready,” he says, hand leaving the sink to slide behind him, trying to grab at Ian’s ass. “I’m wet, come on.” 

Ian tries to clear his throat. “Not,” he pants. “Not yet. Let’s see if we can wait. Just a minute. I just wanna watch us. You wanna watch us?” 

Mickey nods. “Yeah, I want.” But then he closes his eyes, shakes his head. “Ungh, I don’t think I can,” he says. “I feel like I’m gonna blow.” 

Ian stares into Mickey’s eyes. “Then blow,” he whispers. 

Mickey groans, turning his head to the side, liking softly into Ian’s mouth. Ian slides his hand between them, gliding against Mickey’s slick, pumping fingers inside him as Mickey breathes. Ian can feel his own breath shaking. “You feel so good inside, Mick.” 

He feels the goosebumps rise on Mickey’s skin. “C’mon,” Mickey says. “C’mon, want you to fuck me.” He shakes hard. 

Ian doesn’t give him any warning. He pulls his fingers out, grabs Mickey’s hips, and pushes all the way inside him. He stills. His eyes lock with Mickey’s in the mirror, watching him gasp. Ian’s voice shakes. “You want it like this?” 

Mickey nods fast. “Y-yeah.” 

Ian moves only slightly. Another small push, pressing deeper. Holding him there. Mickey gasps. 

“Like that,” Mickey whispers. His eyes close. “Deep like that. Fuck.” 

Ian eases back, just slightly, before pressing back in. Mickey’s head falls back against Ian’s shoulder as he begins to thrust. At first, Ian isn’t sure if he’s breathing. Mickey. Himself. He doesn’t go fast. Just deep. Just hard. Just like Mickey said he wanted. 

“Look at me,” Ian rumbles softly. “Look at me, Mick. Please.” 

Mickey’s head dips forward again and he meets Ian’s eyes in the mirror again. His eyes flash brighter again, a brighter blue. Ian growls under his breath. 

“Why,” Ian pants. “Your eyes.” It’s all he can manage. He’s shaking too hard. 

Mickey’s eyes get even brighter. “Omegas. Omegas–ah, fuck, keep doing that–eyes get brighter when–oh fuck, oh _fuck, Ian_ –we’re turned on.” He squeezes his eyes shut and his mouth drops open as Ian begins to pound into him harder. 

“Open,” Ian pants. “Open your eyes. Wanna watch them when you come.” 

Mickey keeps them shut, little high breaths rising as he tries to push back. Ian grips his hips harder. “Open,” Ian says again. 

“Fuck me harder then,” Mickey says, eyes still closed, a breath, a smirk. 

Ian groans. He can hear the slap of their skin, smell Mickey’s back. He feels Mickey opening up around him. “You want me to knot you or no?” 

“Y-yeah,” Mickey says, eyes still shut tight. “Yeah.” 

As soon as Mickey says it, he feels himself thickening. It’s definitely in response to Mickey’s words. He can tell. Fuck. 

When Ian looks at himself in the mirror, he can see it. He almost stops moving, just to see. He’s taller. He’s taller than Mickey in general, but he’s taller than usual. HIs shoulders are broader. It’s just what they said. At the hospital that first day. He’s never seen proof of it before. His mouth drops open. He tries not to slow down. He looks down, sees where they are connected, then looks further down. He can see MIckey’s feet, on his toes, gripping the sink hard. 

“Now,” Mickey pants. “Knot me now. Be a fuckin’ Alpha and knot me.” 

Ian moans, and he doesn’t even try and do it. He just does it. His body does it. Knots him.

MIckey’s mouth is wide open, and his eyes follow suit. Fuck. They’re almost glowing. Ian feels Mickey’s body tense and then shudder when he releases.

Ian feels himself coming so hard he can hardly breathe. “Wanna,” he manages. “Wanna…” 

His mouth drops to the back of Mickey’s neck and begins to bite. Again, not hard, but not soft either. And just like before, Mickey wants more. _Yeah,_ Mickey pushes out. _Fuck. More._

Ian’s teeth press harder. He can taste it again. Mickey. Omega. Feel Mickey’s heartbeat speeding up. He is hit hard with a scent. Mickey. Almost more Mickey than he’s ever smelled. 

Mickey is shaking hard. His hand reaches behind him. He grabs at Ian’s head, trying to press him closer, but Ian jerks his head up. “Oh shit,” Ian says. “Fuck. I almost–” 

Mickey holds his hair tighter. “I know,” he says. Mickey suddenly throws his head to the side. His neck. The side of his neck. Presentation. Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck._ Somewhere in his body, Ian knows he should back off. But Mickey brings Ian’s head to his neck. His bright eyes close and open. “Bite. Bite hard. Make me want it.” 

Ian shakes through another orgasm. He feels the pulsing against his incisors. His Alpha is losing it’s shit. _Now_ it snaps. _Do it now._

He almost goes too deep. It’s hard not to when Mickey’s hand is pressing him so hard, so hard Ian can barely breathe out of his nose. 

“Make me want it.”

Fuck. 

“Wish you could,” Mickey moans. “Wish we could just do it. Want you to do it.”

It can’t be true. It can’t be what he means. He can’t want Ian to claim him. There’s no way. It’s so much. It’s so soon. He can’t want Ian that much. He can’t _trust_ Ian that much. Ian doesn’t deserve it. He hasn’t earned it. He hasn’t–

Ian yanks his head away with a hard gasp. He shakes his head. He sees Mickey’s neck. The indentations of his teeth. 

“Why’d,” Mickey says. Ian can feel Mickey faltering. Needing Ian. Needing his Alpha to calm him. Tell him it’s okay. “Why’d you stop?”

Ian kisses the mark on Mickey’s neck. Softly. Fully. His arms glide around Mickey’s body and holds him close. He kisses the mark again. _It’s right where it would be,_ Ian thinks. _If I did. If we did._

Ian swallows. He finds Mickey’s lips. He kisses him slowly. He feels Mickey relaxing against him. Ian comes again, still locked, but feels his knot start to deflate. “Because,” Ian says. “Because I wanted it too much.” He swallows again. Hard. “I wanted to be yours.” 

Mickey gives the tiniest nod. Ian almost doesn’t see it. Ian dips down to his neck again. Kisses the mark again. 

“Me too,” Mickey whispers, shaky breath. “I wanted that too.” 

Ian’s base has gone back to normal. He carefully, so carefully, slips out of Mickey. He turns him around by the hips to face him. He can hardly feel his own body. It’s overwhelming. All of it. “You want…”

“You know what.” 

Ian shakes his head slowly. “You don’t mean that. You can’t mean that.” Mickey’s hand glides through the hair on Ian’s chest. “I don’t deserve you,” he says quietly. “I’m. I think I’m kind of fucked up. My. My mood. They said I’m dangerous. I hurt this guy at school. They said I–”

“Told you,” Mickey says. His voice is firm. Commanding. “You ‘aint dangerous. Don’t listen to that shit.” 

“Yeah, but they said he had to go to the hospital. Because–”

Mickey’s hands slide up into Ian’s hair. “That hospital is fucked up. Don’t you know that? All the hospitals are fucked up. Your friend knows it. I could feel it.” 

Ian’s eyes widen. “Feel what?” 

“Her, I guess,” Mickey says. “She didn’t say nothin’. Just felt she was tryin’ to sneak you in. I could kind of smell you on her. Her on you. And something. I think hospital. How come you went there?” 

“Because of what I just said,” Ian says. He should get a blanket, he thinks. They are naked in Mickey’s bathroom, and all the steam is gone. Mickey should be warm. He needs to do something. “My mood. The stabilizers aren’t right. And I can’t sleep.” 

Mickey shakes his head. His hands tighten in Ian’s hair.

“Mick,” he says. “If I–if I claimed you, everyone would know. What you are. What we are. I need you to be safe. I need to keep you safe. I need you to be sure.” 

Mickey avoids his eyes, just a moment, and then comes back.  
“Mickey–” 

His eyes are blue. “I’m sure,” Mickey says. 

“You don’t mean that. You–”

“Said I’m sure,” he says. His voice is strong. “You’re it. You’re the.” He sighs heavily. “You’re the Alpha I’m supposed to be with. What. You don’t feel it? Cause if you don’t I’ll–” 

Ian nods his head slowly. “Of course I feel it,” he whispers. 

“Then what, you don’t think we should?” 

“I,” Ian begins. He opens and closes his mouth. “I think we should. I mean, if you’re sure.” 

Mickey nods slowly. “I’m sure.” 

Ian can feel it, right away. He can feel Mickey, how Mickey’s body feels in a heat. He can hear Mickey’s voice. He can hear and smell and touch the strength of his heat orgasm, his burning skin. It almost knocks him down. He wants him like that. He growls. His hands press against him. Mickey shakes, and his skin gets warmer. 

Wait. Wait. He knows what Mickey’s trying to say. He breaks away. 

“No,” he says, breathing hard. “I’m not letting you force a heat, Mick.” 

Mickey’s hands ease down, out of his hair. He shifts his feet. 

“You can’t. I know that you’re–I mean, it’s supposed to be better in a heat, right?” 

Mickey shrugs. “Yeah. It’s stronger, yeah. A lot stronger. Better.” 

Ian’s heart is racing. He can’t believe this is happening. He nods. “But I don’t want you to force a heat, though. Don’t go off your meds. We still need to talk about it. Just because we want to right now doesn’t mean we should right away. We have time.”

Mickey doesn’t say anything. 

“ _Don’t,_ ” Ian says. “Don’t go off your meds. _Please._ You said you’ve been getting them sometimes? Heats? Cause of me? So let’s just wait. If it happens, then maybe? If a heat happens?” 

MIckey nods. “Okay,” he says softly. 

“I need to,” Ian says. “I’m sorry. I gotta get to school. I have a math test fourth period. I can’t skip it. I’m already a couple hours late. Are you coming?” 

Mickey smiles, just a little. Tension lifted. “Neck like this? Fuck no.” 

Ian’s thumb slides against his neck. “I like it like this,” he says quietly. His eyes pull. “You look. You look beautiful like this.” 

He sees a blush rise. “Fuck off,” he says quietly, but he’s smiling as he looks down. He gives Ian a punch to the shoulder. “Let’s get some fucking clothes on.” 

*  
He has a math test. That’s not a lie. But he has something else he has to take care of. He needs to know. He needs to apologize. 

He sees Jack talking to some girls outside the chemistry room. Ian takes a deep breath and walks over. He can feel Jack’s Alpha. He knows there’s a girl in the group he likes. Ian’s eyes go immediately to a girl with brown hair and a purple backpack. A newly Revealed omega. He can tell immediately. 

“Hey,” Ian says. “Sorry to interrupt. I just,” Jack doesn’t look afraid. Just curious. “Can I talk to you?” 

Jack smiles at all the girls, but his eyes are firmly on the girl with the backpack. “I’ll see you later.” 

Ian watches Jack watch the girl walk away. He doesn’t turn. 

‘Hey,” Ian says again. 

Jack turns to face him. “What’s up?” It’s not angry. It’s nothing, really. Just two words like any other two words. 

“I just,” Ian says. He opens and closes his mouth. Opens his mouth. “I just really wanted to say sorry. About before? At your locker?” 

Jack shrugs. “It’s okay, man. No foul.”

Ian shifts his feet. “I didn’t know I hurt you,” he says. “You seemed okay after. I didn’t know–”

“Look,” Jack says, and his voice drops. “I don’t really care that you’re, ya know, gay or whatever. I didn’t know that you and Mickey were...a thing.” There’s a smile that rises, sticks in a certain line that Ian doesn’t like. 

“No, _you_ look,” Ian says, voice even lower. Rumble. “Don’t say a fucking word about what you think you know to anyone. Got it?” 

“C’mon,” Jack says. The stuck smile curves into a light laugh. “People fucking know. Alphas I mean.” 

Ian shakes his head fast. “No they don’t.” 

Jack shrugs. He reaches into his pocket and fiddles with his phone. He doesn’t look up. “Whatever, man. It’s fine.” 

Ian clenches his fists. He is holding his breath. He stops holding it and breathes out slowly. “He needs me,” he says quietly. “I need to protect him. Milkoviches made a lot of enemies. His dad might be dead now, but people still want to collect. No one can know. He needs to be safe. He–” 

Jack sighs heavily. He rolls his eyes when he looks up from his phone. “Is this gonna be a thing now? You keep going after me, picking childish fights over shit I don’t care about? You’re stronger than me. I get it. You don’t have to rub it in. I’m not tryin’ to take you down or challenge you. So leave me the fuck alone. I'm not–”

“I wouldn’t call bruised kidneys and all that a childish fight,” Ian says quickly. “I had no idea. When I went to the clinic to check my meds they had this report about the fight. I didn’t know about all that stuff. If I knew I would have–” 

He stops when he fully takes in the look of Jack’s face. His knitted eyebrows. 

He takes a breath again. “I guess I’m trying to say sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I didn’t understand the, you know, strength of what I was doing. I’m so fucking sorry. You have no idea how–”

“Stop stop stop,” Jack says. “Wait. What the fuck are you talking about?” 

Ian shakes his head. “The clinic. They said I–”

“I know. I heard. But that didn’t happen. You didn’t...I mean, you bruised the fuck outta my back, but it wasn’t all that long. Nothin’ I don’t get from playing football. And they say we heal fast after Reveal, right? So it’s not like it was even–”

“Wait. No.” Ian can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. “They said. They told me. They had,” he swallows. “A report. The doctor read it off this paper. He said you went into the doctor.” 

Jack shrugs. He starts playing with his phone again. “I dunno what to tell you, man. Maybe they got something screwed up. Because I was okay. What’s that phrase they say? Bruised ego? Yeah. That. That was the worst part. But look,” he sighs. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, really. Don’t make it weird.” 

He doesn’t really look back at Ian. He gives a dismissive little wave and turns. The bell tones. He stands there for a minute. Mouth open. What the fuck?

Math test. Shit. He runs down the hall and slides into the classroom right before the teacher closes the door. He tries not to think about the exchange with Jack. He has to be lying, right? A bruised ego? A bruised back but nothing serious? It doesn’t add up. He fiddles with his backpack until he finds a pencil. 

It doesn’t add up. 

*  
He steps into the hall with a sigh. Well, that sucked. There’s no way he’ll get a C-. He needs a C-. Fuck. 

He pulls his phone out of his pocket. Mickey sent him a photo of his neck. He can hardly see Mickey’s face in it. Mostly his jaw and the curve of his lip. 

This is why some Alphas carry their inhalers. For times like this. Ian chuckles under his breath. He’s in the middle of trying to decide if he should go into the bathroom and jack off or try and edge himself off until he can leave after fifth period and get back to Mickey when he sees it. 

It’s Jack’s locker. It’s wide open, and the band teacher and the security guard are pulling everything out of his locker and into a box. Jack is nowhere to be seen. 

Ian feels his eyes widen. Not dilated. Just confused. He can’t swallow. 

He hears a noise to his left. It’s the girl with the backpack. She looks like she’s crying. She’s gripping a textbook hard to her chest.

Ian tries not to startle her, but he does anyway. “What the fuck is happening? Where did he go?” 

She shakes her head. She’s breathing fast. “Someone just came into English,” she says. “Some lady. And she had these two other guys in the hall. I could see them from where I was sitting. And she didn’t even say anything to Mr. Behr or anything. She just said his name and to bring him backpack with him. Then they just shut the door.” 

“Drugs?” 

She shakes his head. “I don’t...I don’t think so? I mean, he smokes pot I know. I smoked with him, but I don’t know about the other stuff?” 

They shut Jack’s locker and head down the hall toward the staircase. The other students are whispering, and it isn’t long before the teachers are trying to get everyone to go to class. Ian hangs back and tries to work himself toward the back stairwell. From the second floor window he can see part of the parking lot. The men approach a black cadillac and open the trunk. One of them throws the box inside and the other one gets into the car. The man who threw the box just stands outside the car. 

Ian’s heart pounds. 

Suddenly he sees the other man turn back toward the school. Ian hits the floor right away without even thinking. When he finds himself lying on the floor, he can’t breathe. 

“Mr. Gallagher?” 

Ian’s head snaps up. Eyes wide. 

Fuck. 

Beginning to pull. 

Fear as anger. Anger as fear. 

It’s the band teacher, reaching for his hidden tranq gun. Ian puts his hands up in surrender. “I’m not,” he says. “I’m okay. I’m just. I just got kind of, I don’t know. Freaked out. By Jack just–” 

The teacher shakes his head. “There’s been a sudden death in the family. They need to withdraw Jack immediately to relocate. To take care of the surviving family.”

“But he didn’t say anything. He didn’t–”

“This is in no way any of your business, Mr. Gallagher. This is a family matter. I need you to head to your class immediately.” 

“Uh,” Ian stammers. “Oh-um, okay.” He rises to his feet and heads upstairs. The teacher is right behind him. Is he going to walk him to class? He is. Oh god. 

The band teacher opens the classroom door and signals to the teacher, excusing Ian’s tardiness. 

It’s not right. His stomach churns. He looks down at his hands. He has them folded on his desk. He feels his eyes pulled. He feels the adrenaline in his arms and legs. He breathes faster. He tries to calm the panic. He breathes deeply in and out. 

“Ian?” 

His head snaps up at the teacher’s voice. “Yeah?” 

“Come to the front of the classroom, please. You need to show me your Alpha ID paperwork.” 

He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. Is it in his pocket? Whew. It’s in his pocket. His hands shake when he hands it over. 

She opens the book to the photos of his sexual response. “Look directly at me,” she says. A firm voice. Commanding. Alpha. “Do not move your eyes.” 

She looks at the book and up at Ian’s eyes. Then back to the book and his eyes again. She closes the book and hands it over. “Do you have your eyedrops or will I have to call down to the medical office?”

“I–” Ian says. “I have them. In my backpack. I think.” 

“You think? Or you know?” 

“I know,” he says. 

“Use them immediately,” she says. “If your eyes do not change, you are going to medical. Understood?” 

Ian nods his head fast. His hands shake when he looks in the recesses of his backpack for the eyedrops. He catches her looking at him when he is about to unscrew the cap. Her eyes haven’t budged. 

They are dark. Her eyes are dark. 

He fumbles with the cap. It drops somewhere, rolls on the floor. He puts his head back and tries not to flinch when the drop comes down. Twice. Three times. He blinks and blinks his eyes. They are still watery and stuck tight when another student, someone on his left, pulls at his hand, saying “here”, pressing the fallen bottle cap into his palm.

*  
She didn’t say where she lives. Not exactly. 

There’s the blue line. She says that’s the one she takes the most. That’s a good place to start. It doesn’t take him long to transfer over there. She said she lives above a liquor store. Okay. That will help. He has trouble getting reception for some reason, but he’s trying. There are only a million liquor stores. How hard can it be? Then there was the place that sells hot dogs. That’s down the street from her. She says that she can’t even smell sauerkraut without thinking of her grandpa, but she goes there anyway because their italian is great. 

He’s gone four stops before he stands up and approaches a young woman. They usually smile at him. “Hey,” he says. “I don’t mean to be like, crass with this. I’m just trying to remember the name of this place my cousin told me about, and she’s not answering my texts. It’s a hot dog place? Kinda by a liquor store? And then nearby...uh, I don’t remember what. Does that sound familiar?” 

“Near the dry cleaners?” 

Dry cleaners. Okay. That’s enough for a triangle, right? He can work with that. “Yeah,” he says. “Dry cleaners. That sounds right.” 

“Yeah,” the woman says. “Yeah, I actually live near there. It’s the next stop. Did you want to…” She smiles. 

Uh oh. Uh oh. Backtrack. He smiles. “I sort of have a girlfriend. Sorry.” 

She shrugs. “No harm in asking. I like to look at pretty Alphas. All my beta boyfriends are boring as hell compared to you guys.” 

“Heh heh,” he says. “Um. Thanks. For…”

“No problem,” she says. The train pulls to a stop. “Enjoy. The sauerkraut is pretty strong, but it tastes awesome. 

“Thanks,” he says, but she’s already out the door.

*

The door is locked. The little door to the right of the liquor store door. There’s a buzzer, but he can tell it’s broken. 

He just stands there. He doesn’t know what to do. His ears are cold. He forgot his hat. 

“Hey,” he says out loud. He doesn’t know why he says it. But immediately he links her, without even thinking about it. 

Something’s wrong. 

He doesn’t know what. But even though he can feel her, he feels a little dizzy. 

“What’s wrong?” He says it to the street. 

He can hear someone running down the stairs, and then the door is open. She’s wearing her hoodie with the hood pulled up, strings shut tight. She steps aside. Her eyes are wide. 

“C’mon,” she says quietly. He tries to link, but there’s nothing. The slight sound of wind. Empty. 

“You okay? What’s going on?” It’s a short walk up the steps. She doesn’t answer. 

Her apartment is dominated by a big bed, covered with white bedding and loads of pillows. It’s a studio apartment, one room with not a lot left in it. There is a wide and cluttered nightstand with a big drawer.

Medication bottles on the table. A water bottle. A wine glass with a tiny bit of dried red wine at the bottom. 

There is a little kitchen in a corner, barely concealed with a little wall. There isn’t a table. There is a little bookcase with books wedged in and a chair by the door. 

“I like your place,” Ian says brightly. 

“Thanks,” she says quietly. 

He squints. “Elizabeth.” 

She turns back. Her hood is still up. “What.” She isn’t mad. She isn’t sad. She just looks tired. Very tired. 

“Are you okay?” He steps toward her, but she takes a little step back. “Did I do something? I don’t understand what’s.” He looks around the apartment again. That’s when he sees it. On the floor. 

Her hair. 

She must have put it in a ponytail first. She said she always liked it in a ponytail. Before the braids. Before Clara. Before-before. There is a black elastic wound around the top, a blunt cut above it. 

He shouldn’t be surprised at the tears blurring his eyesight. Not when the two of them are this close. Not when they are linked. Compatible Alphas. Pack. But he is. He is surprised. And he can feel the look on his face. The open, surprised look with sadness mixed in. “Why did you do this?” 

She doesn’t cry. She just stares at him. She’s pale. She reaches up and loosens the grip on the strings holding her hoodie tight over her head. She unzips the hoodie altogether and lets it drop. She sighs and takes off her jeans. She stands there in a tank top and boxers. She heads back toward the bed.

She didn’t even try and cut it in a way that made sense. That could pass as intentional. When she turns around to ease into her bed, it’s all jagged in the back. 

“I’m tired,” she says. She slips under the covers. 

He stands there. He doesn’t know what to do. She reaches back and pats at the bed behind her. He tries to link. Quiet. Wind. Wind in the trees. Hazel eyes, almost solid brown, almost a little green. Then nothing. Quiet. 

He knows those eyes. 

He toes his shoes off and takes off his coat. He pulls his plaid shirt off. He puts it all on a chair by the door. He locks the door quietly. 

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. He slides into bed and moves close to her. She reaches back. She takes his arm and slides it around her waist. His nose brushes her shoulder, brushes between her shoulder blades. He is comforted by her scent. He loves how she smells. Strong. She’s so strong. That first day. That day she almost carried him into the blue room. _”I’m an Alpha. No one’s too heavy for me.”_

Wind. Only wind. “Please don’t leave,” she says quietly. “Please.” 

His lips brush her shirt. “I won’t,” he says. “I promise.” 

*

It’s dark when he wakes up, but the light on the nightstand is on. He knows she’s awake. He can tell by her breathing. But her hand is firm on his hand. 

“Elizabeth,” he says. He feels groggy and a little sweaty. “What’s going on?” 

There’s a pause. “Nothing,” she says. “I get migraines sometimes. Sometimes I get queasy.” 

He tries not to think about the bottles on the nightstand. “All those pills,” he says. “What are they for?” 

“Same as you,” she says. “Just a little extra. And I’ve been having more migraines. And then one of the meds makes me have the shakes. I can’t be an Alpha doctor with the shakes. I just can’t. So I have a pill for that, too.” 

“Oh,” he says.

She pats his hand. “Thanks for staying,” she says. “You can go if you want. I bet Mickey’s waiting for you.” 

“It’s okay,” he says quietly. “I can stay. I’m just gonna use your bathroom. You need anything?” 

“No,” she says to the wall. “No, I’m okay.” 

There’s a pink rug, and the pink surprises him. He doesn’t know why. There’s a shower curtain with roses on it and a circular mirror with white wicker around it. Soap that smells like lemons. He stares at himself in the mirror. 

She’s asleep again when he crawls back beside her. He reaches for his phone and texts Mickey that he’s not coming over. That Elizabeth needs him for something. He starts to text him about her hair, about how she seems depressed or sick or both or who knows, but he backs up the text and deletes that part. 

He has to protect her, too. 

He doesn’t know how long he stays awake. He thinks of Jack and has to try to clear his mind over and over. It’s not right. He tries not to go too far with it, but it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense. 

He tries to clear his mind. He tries to link Elizabeth, even in her sleep. He’s never tried it before. He wonders if it would be okay if he did. 

“Hey,” he says quietly. He gives her a gentle little nudge, a little shake. 

“Hmm?” She stirs, but not too much. 

“Are you okay if I link?” Ian whispers it into her shoulder. “I can’t sleep. I can’t shut my brain off.” 

“Sure,” she mumbles. “S’okay.”

He lets his mind skate over the top of their link. He starts to breathe deeply. He’s relaxing, bit by bit. Their link is soothing like this. He doesn’t worry that he’s wrong. He doesn’t feel wrong. Her mind is floating above mountains, or somewhere else up high. The wind. The wind. He lets the sound wash over him, the soft sound through the trees. He holds her tighter as his mind lets go. 

*  
She’s still sleeping when he wakes up. He carefully untangles himself and looks at his phone. Shit. Should he go to school? He’s already late. Should he just go to Mickey’s? 

Mickey’s. 

“Hey,” he says softly. “Hey Elizabeth. I gotta get going, okay?”

There is the tiniest, quietest little hum. 

“I’ll come back later,” he says. “Maybe I’ll bring you soup or something.” 

“Okay,” she says quietly. “Tomato.” 

“You got it,” he says. 

He gives her one last look before he leaves the apartment. She rolls onto her back and stares at the ceiling. 

“Ian,” she says, just a tiny bit louder. 

“Yeah?” 

She turns on her side to face him. She blinks her eyes fast. “Thank you.” 

He smiles. She’s beautiful. The light comes in the window and hits her face just right. She pulls the covers closer.

“You’re welcome,” he says. His hand is on the doorknob. His coat is unzipped. His phone is buzzing in his pocket. Her apartment smells like them. Both of them. 

“I’ll see ya,” he says. 

She nods. Nods again. “Yeah,” she says. “I’ll see ya.” 

*

Mickey is still breathing hard when Ian comes back with the water. He smiles as he sits up and drinks. Ian is always surprised at how good he feels when he can take care of Mickey like this. These little things. Bringing him a little food, sometimes. Rubbing his shoulders. Tracing circles on his back to help him fall asleep. 

“Thanks,” Mickey says. He lies back down. 

Ian nods. Mandy is supposed to come home soon, and even though she knows about them, he certainly doesn’t want to be naked. He peels his clothes off to climb back into bed. He pulls Mickey down on the bed again and eases back on top of him. 

He laughs. “You really thinkin’ I could go again?” He slides his hand over Ian’s head but then lets it drop. “You gonna keep me here all day?” 

Ian kisses him, smiles against his mouth, kisses him again. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Yeah, I’m gonna keep you here all day. Definitely.” 

“Ha,” Mickey says, and pulls him down again. The kiss starts to heat up fast. Mickey hums against Ian’s mouth. His legs part wider and Ian lets a rumble go. 

“So good,” Ian says. He squeezes at Mickey’s thigh, hard enough that Mickey starts to breathe harder. “You always feel so good. Fuck.” His hand leaves his thigh and he pulls himself back just far enough that he can slip his hand in, slip his hand against Mickey’s dick. “I’m gonna make you come,” he says. He draws his hand back and spits. He goes back in, starting to tease, starting to grip. “Fucking love to make you come. Could make you come all day.” 

Mickey’s eyes close and his breath shakes. “Do,” he says. “You do.” 

“Yeah,” Ian pants. “But I want more.” 

Mickey laughs, just barely. “Alphas always do,” he says. Ian chuckles. He doesn’t want to think of Mickey with other Alphas. He never does. But still. 

Ian increases the speed and pressure. “Open your mouth,” he says. “Wanna hear every sound you make for me.” 

Mickey’s mouth drops open. “If you,” he says. “If I get a heat.” He swallows. “Wanna show you what I can do. In a heat. I’d be so fucking good. I’d be–”

“Yeah,” Ian pants. “Fuck yeah.” 

Mickey moans. “I’d want you to eat me. I’d be so wet. You like me wet.” 

“Oh fuck,” Ian pants. “Yeah. Love you wet.” 

“I’d want you to keep fucking me. You’d get - your Alpha would get-"

“Get what?” Ian moves him up and down. Mickey is leaking. He loves it. 

“Your Alpha would get so strong. And you'd love it. Knot me so hard. Over and over. You’d love my ass in a heat. You'd want me.” 

Ian moans. “Always want you.” 

“I’d let you fuck my throat all day. You’d like that.” 

“Yeah,” Ian breathes. “And I could,” he says. He takes a deep breath. He would. He will. For Mickey. “And I could knot your mouth, Mick. Give you my come. Lock in. Give you everything I have. Make you take it. Make you drink it all.” 

“Ahh!” Mickey’s body bows out and he tries to thrust into Ian’s hand, but Ian holds him tight. “Oh god,” he pants. “Oh god oh god.” HIs eyes fly open. They glow. Blue. He grabs Ian’s arms so hard. “Fuck. Fuck.” 

He screams when he comes. Ian loves it when he screams. He gives a small growl. His eyes pull. But then–

“Jesus Christ!” It’s Mandy, probably in the kitchen. She gives a disgusted groan. “Keep it down.” 

Ian breathes a laugh, and Mickey does, too. 

“I never want you to keep it down,” Ian smiles. “Never.” 

Mickey’s eyes are closed. He shakes his head back and forth. “No,” he says. “Never.” 

Ian kisses him quickly. “Gotta wash my hand,” he says.

The water in the bathroom always takes forever to heat up. He wipes all the come off with toilet paper the best he can before he washes his hands. He stares at himself in the mirror. Mickey gave him hickies at some point. He smiles. 

“Hey,” Mickey calls. “Your phone is goin’ off.” 

Ian misses the call, but when he sees the screen, he pauses. “What the hell?” 

“Sup.” 

“I have _eight_ missed calls from Elizabeth? She doesn’t even like to call me. Never texts me.” 

He must have a look on his face. 

“Something’s wrong,” he says. He shakes his head. “Mickey, something’s wrong.” 

“What? What’s wrong?” 

“I don’t know,” he says. “But I think I gotta get over there. She might just be hungry. Said I’d bring her tomato soup. We can stop on the way over there.”

“We?” 

“Yeah. We. C’mon.” 

*

She didn’t return his calls. She didn’t pick up, and Ian tried a solid six times. 

At the door, he tries to link Elizabeth. 

“Buzz it,” Mickey says. 

“It’s broken,” Ian says. 

Mickey rolls is his eyes. “Did you even try it?” 

Ian opens and closes his mouth. “I guess. Um. No?” 

Mickey’s finger is already on the button. Almost immediately, the buzzer sounds. 

“We shoulda got some Doritos,” Mickey says. “For the soup.” 

“Doritos?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Who eats Doritos with tomato soup?” 

“Uh,” Mickey says sarcastically. “Me. For starters.” 

Ian knocks at Elizabeth’s door. He chuckles. “For starters,” he repeats. 

“Come in,” a voice says. A man’s voice. Ian freezes. 

“Go,” Mickey says. 

“It might be,” Ian says. He can’t keep the fear out of his voice. “It might be a trick. It could be a trick.” He tries to link, but feels absolutely nothing. They took her away. They have to have taken her away. He doesn’t feel her. He doesn’t feel anything. 

“Come in!” The voice is louder. 

Ian starts to back away from the door. He shakes his head. 

“What’s wrong?” Mickey reaches for him, but Ian pulls his arm away from the door. 

“We–we gotta go.” 

“Your eyes,” Mickey says. “What are you scared about?” 

“This guy at school,” Ian stammers. “Someone came to get him, Mick. These guys. These guys in a black car. They said he–they were lying. I know they were. Mick, I’m not safe. I’m not–” 

The door opens fast and someone comes out in the hall, staring right at him. 

Ian breaths a sigh, but he isn’t sure it’s relief. “Adam?” 

Adam looks around in the hall. He doesn’t say anything. He puts his finger to his lips. He waves them forward. 

“I was calling you,” Adam says. 

“Oh,” Ian says. “From her phone? What’s going on? What’s.” 

He freezes when he sees her. She’s turned on her side, facing the door. Just like he left her, when he left her hours ago. 

She looks like she’s. She looks like. 

“What did you do to her?” Ian can hear the shake in his voice. “What did they do?” 

Adam doesn’t answer. 

The growl comes fast. He whips around and pushes Adam so far back, so fast, that he almost hits the kitchen. He’s never done that. Pushed anything like that. So hard that it flew across the room. 

“What the fuck did you do!” 

Adam breathes hard. He shakes his head. “I didn’t,” he pants. “I didn’t do anything. I’m sorry, Ian. I thought she told you.” 

Ian can feel his eyes race around the room, focusing on nothing. “Told me what?” 

Adam hesitates.

Ian’s Alpha growls. “Told me _what_ , Adam?” 

He sees him cower, just slightly. Alpha. “The. It wasn’t working. Isn’t working. We’ve been trying everything. She’s been taking anything and everything she can get her hands on. But we can’t–”

Ian is breathing hard. “What do you mean? Taking what? She said she was taking other stuff. For her migraines. And said she was a guinea pig sometimes. But she didn’t–I mean she didn’t say why she–”

“We don’t know why,” he says. “We can’t isolate why. Why it’s happening to _her,_ specifically. She’s a strong Alpha. One of the strongest on record. We weren’t prepared for something like this.” 

Ian doesn’t ask again. He can’t. Because he knows, suddenly, what he means.

Mickey’s voice is firm. “What? What’s happening?” 

Adam’s voice wavers. “She’s sick. She's really sick. She might not come back from it. She might–”

“No,” Ian says firmly. He shakes his head. “No.” He kneels beside her. “She was better earlier.” Ian can hear the fear in his voice. “I was just here yesterday. She didn’t look like this.” He reaches out and slides his hand over her short hair. She doesn’t open her eyes, but he sees them twitch under her eyelids. 

Adam knees beside her too. “Hey. Doctor P.” He gently pushes at her shoulder. She doesn’t move. “Hey,” he says again. “Can you open your eyes?” 

Elizabeth licks her dry lips. Her voice is thin, almost air. Ian can hardly hear it. “No.” 

“Elizabeth.” Ian reaches for her arm and pulls her hand out from under the covers. He looks over at Adam, then at Mickey. “She’s hot,” he says. “Feel her hand. She’s burning up.” 

Adam touches her hand quickly. “Shit,” he says under his breath. 

“What? Why isn’t her head hot?” 

Adam leans closer. “P, open your eyes,” he says. “Please, you gotta open your eyes. I need to see them.” 

“Adam,” Ian chokes out. He must give Mickey a certain look, a look he can’t feel on his face. Mickey’s face goes soft, and his eyes hold onto Ian’s. “Adam. Help her. I can’t,” he swallows hard. He swallows again. He can’t talk past the lump in his throat. “I can’t feel her. I can’t link her.” 

“Ian,” Adam says gently. 

“No.” Ian shakes his head fast. “No. You don’t understand.” His eyes go from Elizabeth’s quiet face to Adam’s face to Mickey’s eyes. “You don’t understand,” he says again. “I can _always_ feel her. I can feel,” he pauses. He sees something wet hit Elizabeth’s hand. Tears. “I can usually– I _know_ her. I can find her.” He wipes at his face. “Maybe she's hiding. Maybe if I just–” he swallows. He tries to swallow. “Maybe I can find her. I know I can. I–” He pulls Adam back away from her. “Move over,” he says. He lets go of her hand and touches her face. She feels cold, almost. Clammy. Almost like she’s–

No. No. That’s not what’s happening. It can’t be. 

“Please,” Ian says. His forehead meets hers. He slides his hand over her hair. Her breath is shallow and sour. “What’s going on? You can tell me. Link me. Come on. I know you can.” 

Mickey’s voice is low and quiet. “Ian.” 

Ian doesn’t move. Her hair is as soft as it’s always been. “Elizabeth,” he says quietly. “Come on. You don’t have to open your eyes. Just let me in, okay?” Nothing. “Please,” he says. “Anything. Remember blue? Like you said? Us on the blue line, remember?” He can hear his voice rising. “How you said I should just pretend we were on the train? Blue?” 

He waits. Nothing comes. He tries so hard. He tries to go deeper. Deeper. There is a sound that reaches him, almost like the sea, like holding one of those giant shells up to his ear. He whispers in her ear. “The ocean?” 

There’s a tiny noise. Elizabeth. Ian tries to go deeper. He can feel his head begin to throb with the effort. “Where are you,” he whispers. “Where are you?” 

He closes his eyes tight. He feels the sand on his feet. He looks down. His feet are pale, black toenail polish. He reaches for his hair, just to check. It feels like hers. Just before he draws his hand back, he feels like someone bashes him in the back with a crowbar. He can feel it all the way into his stomach. He bends over. When he sees the blood hit the sand, he doesn’t know where it’s coming from. 

“Ian,” Mickey says, somewhere far away.

Ian feels the dampness under his feet as he stumbles toward the shoreline. It hits him again. More blood on the sand. 

He can hardly breathe. But slowly the pain eases up. He holds his hands in front of him, to see Elizabeth’s hands. Her nail polish. 

Nothing. They aren’t her hands. 

There is no more blood.

He turns around. There she is. She’s staring out at the water. He can see her in profile. He calls her name. He starts to run to meet her, but he isn’t moving. She turns slowly toward him. He hears it. It’s soft, but he hears it. 

“Leave me here.”

Ian shakes his head hard and fast. “No. No, I’m not going to. I’m–”

“I’ll be okay. I’ll be fine.” 

“No!” Ian can hear the growl in his voice. Alpha. Trying to reach her. Her Alpha. She has to want to fight. She can’t just give up like this. 

He hears Mickey’s voice. He turns around, and he’s back in Elizabeth’s apartment. Back in the room.

“Ian,” Mickey says. “What’s going on?” 

Ian shakes his head hard. “No, she’s not. She’s _not,_ Adam.”

“She is,” Adam says. “Ian, she’s dying.”

Ian’s hand is on Adam’s throat in a flash. He pins him against the wall. 

“Woah woah woah,” Mickey says. Ian can feel his hand on his arm. “Easy. Easy.” 

Ian doesn’t turn. He sees Adam’s eyes flash black. Not a lot. Just enough. But Adam doesn’t fight him. For a moment, Ian almost feels him attempt to link. 

“Don’t fucking say that,” Ian says. “She’s not. I just saw her. She’s–” 

Blue. Blue blue blue. That wide water. 

Adam’s hand raises up slowly and meets Ian’s hand on his throat. He taps it until Ian loosens his grip. 

“I’m sorry,” Adam says. “We’ve been...we’ve been trying for a long time. To fix it. Her. I thought you knew. She was weaker, you know? She kept getting weaker. I knew she was trying to shield you from the worst of it, but I didn’t know she didn’t tell you. She must have blocked it in your link. Otherwise you would have known. She was already getting sick when you met her.” 

He sees red. He feels his eyes. He hears a wail that rises from somewhere. Somewhere deep. Almost a howl, something primal and aching and angry. One moment he’s standing there, trying not to slam Adam into the wall again, trying to listen to Mickey’s hand on his arm. The next moment he is in Elizabeth’s bed. 

He’s trying to pick her up, slide her onto his lap. He’s saying so many words, words he can’t even track because fuck his eyes are blurry and he can’t stop crying and he can't stop crying and he knows he is drooling on her but he can’t help it. He holds her body close and rocks back and forth. He whispers into her hair. He kisses her head over and over. He can almost taste her. The smell of her is fading. He can feel it all fading. Their link is– 

“No,” he snaps, sobbing. He pulls her body away from his chest. “No,” he says again. “No!” He doesn’t realize he’s shaking her until Mickey says _careful, careful._

“You can’t fucking do this,” Ian says. “I can’t do this without you. I can’t.” He presses his lips to her cheek, like her smell and taste is all he needs to ground him. Like she is a part of him.

She is a part of him.

He gasps all of a sudden and the room spins. 

“Ian!” Mickey’s voice is panicked. “Ian, wait!” 

He’s on the beach. He’s on the beach and she’s there. She doesn’t take her eyes off the water. There is blood on the sand. She’s taking her clothes off, bit by bit. She is wearing layers and layers of clothes. He watches them come off. Her scrubs. Her favorite jeans and hoodie. A pink shirt he doesn't recognize. The band t-shirt. She takes them off and off and off, peeling layers of herself off and off and off, and he can hear himself calling to her even though she’s right there, _right there_ but she doesn’t turn, doesn’t turn, doesn’t turn. She reaches the last layer. The clothes she is wearing right now, far away. The clothes she was wearing yesterday, when she took off her hoodie and her jeans. Black tank top and red boxers. She stops. Her hand shields her eyes from the sun. 

“Fucking look at me,” Ian says quietly. 

She turns. 

There. It’s all there. Every single thing. Every single thing she’s never told him. It races out at him so fast he is gasping, dizzy, almost falling into the sand. He can almost feel the sand in his mouth, gritty in his teeth. He hears Mickey. He hears Adam. He hears the panic, and he knows something is happening to his body, but he doesn’t know what. She is sharing everything she’s ever held back. He doesn’t know if he’s laughing or crying. It’s overwhelming. And then. And then. 

There’s a roar, a roar he knows is him, and then all noise stops. He stares at her, there in the sun. He takes a deep breath. He walks closer, closer, closer, and he actually reaches her this time. 

She touches his face. He can feel it. He can feel what she’s trying to say. It’s right there. She holds his face in her hands and brings him close. The kiss is simple. Soft. It’s the barest press of lips. It’s the only way she can tell him. She can’t speak, not anymore. But there’s something in her kiss that pushes the thought into his body. 

She pulls away gently. He takes her face in his hands. “Okay,” he says, nodding. She starts to turn, look back into the water, but he pulls her back, almost roughly. “ _I said okay.”_ He nods fast. “So don't, okay? Okay?” 

She nods, just slightly. 

“Okay,” he says. He takes her in his arms and holds her close. He closes his eyes. 

When he opens his eyes again, he’s back in the room. He’s still holding her. Her eyes are still closed. Her face is cold. Her body is hot. He gently lays her down and smooths her cheek. “Okay,” he says again. 

“I’m sorry,” Adam says. “We’ve tried everything, Ian.” 

He shakes his head. He opens and closes his mouth. He shakes his head harder. 

“Ian,” Mickey says. Ian can feel his hand on his shoulder. 

“She isn’t ready,” Ian says. He swallows hard. “To go.” 

“I know,” Adam says quietly. “She’s a fighter. But this is bigger than that,” he says. “This is–”

“No,” Ian says. “Listen to me. She’s not ready. We can still help her. Even if it doesn’t help, maybe she’d feel,” he swallows. “Better when she goes.” 

Mickey licks his mouth. “You mean–”

“Yeah,” Ian says. He looks at Adam. “I have to find Clara.” 

Adam shakes his head. “We don’t know that finding the compatible omega even works. And we don’t know where she is. We’ll never–” 

“I _can_ ,” he says. “I heard. Just now. Elizabeth told me. Where she is. Minneapolis. Maybe she’s not there anymore, but it’s worth a shot.” 

“You can’t google the names of gay omegas,” Mickey says. “Protected.” 

“I know,” Ian says. “But there was that guy…” 

“She bi?” 

“I don’t know,” Ian says. “Maybe. But if she’s totally closeted she could probably get around that rule. I mean, she could have fake beta IDs like you. I could probably find you online if I wanted.”

Adam pulls out his phone. “What is it? Rodriguez?”

“Ramirez,” Mickey says. 

Ian’s mouth falls open. “What?” 

Mickey shrugs. “I looked at that picture.” 

“Wait,” Ian says. “What picture?” 

MIckey rolls his eyes. “In the hallway? The band picture? Won some sort of award? Got the picture in the case by the auditorium?” 

Ian shakes his head. “I never saw it. It lists their names?” 

“Well, yeah.” Mickey shrugs. “But I picked her out before that.” 

“How?” 

He shrugs again. “Don’t know. Just could.” 

There is a tiny noise from Elizabeth, but she doesn’t move.

“Got her,” Adam says. “Is this her?” He holds it up. Her eyes look strange. Haunted. Drained. 

Sick.

“Yeah,” Ian says quickly. “Yeah, that’s her.” He turns to Elizabeth. “Elizabeth, open your eyes. Her picture’s right here.” 

She doesn’t move. But there’s a tiny snap in his mind. It’s so fast and sharp it makes him wince. There. He knows what to do.

“Got it,” he says quickly. He stands up and starts racing around the apartment. He finds a couple of plastic bags and passes them to Mickey before he starts rummaging in a laundry basket. He brings a shirt to his face to sniff it. Dirty.

Perfect.

“Please tell me you aren’t gonna wear her fucking underwear,” Mickey groans. 

“Of course not,” Ian sighs. “Here.” He tosses the shirt and a sweater in Mickey’s direction. “Put them in the bag and shut it tight. Put another one on top of it. We’ll have to get one of those really big ziplocks on the road. We gotta hold her scent in.” 

He scoops up her hoodie from the floor and slips it on. Her scent is all over it. Strong enough he knows she hasn’t washed it in a while. That’s good. Very good. He zips his coat up around it. 

“Open that bottom drawer,” he says. “The bag in there.” 

Adam pulls the dresser drawer open. He pauses, looking in. 

“Come on,” Ian says, snapping his fingers. “Give it.” 

Adam pulls out a tightly sealed clear package and tosses it in Ian’s direction. 

“What’s that? T-shirt?” Mickey says. Ian tosses it in his direction. Mickey squints at the bag. “Marching band?” 

“And a sweater,” Ian says. “Her favorite sweater. They're Clara's. I’m gonna use them to track her. Come on. We gotta go.” 

“You really think you can?” Adam asks. “Track her?”

Ian takes a deep breath. “Gotta try. Hopefully Clara’ll start looking, too. For me. I mean Elizabeth. On me.” He turns toward Mickey. “Do you think she could smell me if I can hold Elizabeth’s scent in? Would you be able to smell me if we were like this?” 

“Yeah,” Mickey breathes. “Yeah, I could.” 

Ian fights the urge to grab at him, kiss him, mark him. The thought of being separated pains him, and he can tell it pains Mickey, too. He shakes the thought off and tries to breathe normally. “Come on,” Ian says. “I gotta go. Who’s coming?” 

“Me,” Mickey says. 

“I'm taking her,” Ian says.

“You can't,” Adam says. “She’s too medically fragile. I'll take care of her.”

“Don’t you fucking dare let them take her away,” Ian says darkly. 

“That’s why I’m going to stay,” Adam says. “But they’re gonna want to get her back into the hospital. See what,” he pauses. “Happens to her. You know. How she–”

“Shut the fuck up with that,” Mickey spits. He is about to move, but Ian pulls him back. 

Adam nods nervously. “You gotta hurry, Ian. She doesn’t have much time.” 

“I know,” Ian says. “Here. I need your car keys.” 

“In my coat pocket,” Adam says. “On the chair.” 

Mickey fishes them out. “But what if she’s…” he begins. He taps at his neck. 

Bonded. 

Ian swallows hard. “We gotta try.” He swallows again.

Elizabeth’s forehead is still cold, but he kisses her just the same. “Elizabeth. Listen to me. I'm gonna find her,” he says. “Okay? It’s six hours there and six hours back. That’s 12 hours, okay? And I’ll find her. I’ll find her fast. I know I can. Mickey’s gonna keep trying to figure out where she is once were in the car. I think they–they might even be connected. He could pick her out in the picture.” 

“I don’t know if,” Mickey says. “I mean, maybe. But I don’t fuckin’ know.” 

Ian doesn’t look away. “Just hang on, okay? I’m coming back tomorrow. And I’m gonna have Clara with me. I promise.” He can feel his eyes pulling. He’s afraid. He can smell her inside his jacket. “You just gotta hang on. Stay away from the water, Elizabeth. Be in the car with me, okay? Just pretend you’re looking out the window.” 

There is the tiniest sound. He kisses her head one last time before he stands. “I love you,” he whispers. “You just gotta hang on.” 

“Gallagher.” Mickey throws the keys his direction. 

He nods as he catches the keys. “Let’s ride.”


	7. Blackbird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search is on.

Ian jumps when he hears the door slam. 

His neck is sore from leaning against the door and cold window as he slept. Mickey settles back into the seat with two cups of coffee. 

“Hey,” Mickey says. “How’re you doin’.

Ian stretches his chest out and rolls his neck around. He takes the coffee. “You were supposed to wake me up in an hour. You told me you were going to make me sleep for just an hour. How long did I sleep? Where are we?” 

Mickey starts the car and drinks a sip of coffee. “We’re here,” he says. 

“We’re here?” Ian looks around. The car windows are foggy. The sun is just rising.

“Not here-here,” Mickey says sarcastically. “This is a gas station.” 

Ian gives him a punch. “Minneapolis?” 

“Yup.” 

Ian’s mind clicks awake and he frantically reaches for his phone for some sort of message. About Elizabeth. Nothing. 

“I know where to start,” Mickey says. “We gotta get some breakfast. I know you wanna just hit the bricks and start Alpha-ing all over the place, but we gotta get some food in you first.” 

There’s a little flush in Ian. Mickey isn’t thinking of himself. He’s thinking of Ian. He wants him to eat, to relax, to be able to handle this challenge that is half crazy and half noble. 

He knows Ian needs to center himself. Center his brain. Ian’s brain is going a million miles an hour, full of noise and static. He feels like he could punch his way out of the car, run through the snow barefoot, tear the city apart brick by brick with a t-shirt shoved up his nose. 

Ian feels like he could do that. Easily. 

And Mickey knows it. He’s slowing Ian down. He wants to take care of him. He _is_ taking care of him. Letting him sleep. Wanting him to eat. 

“I saw a place up the street aways. By the university. Thought we could figure out where to start there.”

Ian nods. “Do you remember what was on the picture that Adam found?”

Mickey shakes his head. “Somethin’ with college.”

Ian fumbles with his phone. 

Mickey stops his hand. “Don't do it,” he says. “In case.”

 _In case._ Ian breathes heavily. He's right. He nods.

“Let’s eat,” Mickey says. “I'll get hangry.”

*  
It's a greasy spoon filled with students. There’s a big sign on the wall with a drawing of a laptop with a big red circle and line through it. Ian chuckles. He approves. 

He turns back to look at Mickey. He’s hunched over his pancakes, drenched in syrup. He spears a link of sausage from the little plate next to him, swipes it into the syrup, and shoves it into his mouth. 

He chews fast and swallows. “I was so fuckin’ hungry,” he says. He gestures to Ian’s plate. His veggie omelet is almost untouched. “What’s with you?” 

Ian rubs his sweaty hands on his jeans before he reaches for his cup of coffee. “I can’t stop thinking about Elizabeth. I can’t lose her,” he says. He feels his eyes burning. “I don’t know what to do without her. And all I can think of is how I’m wasting time sitting here when I could be out there looking for Clara.” 

Mickey shakes his head. “You’re not,” he says. He glances around before his hand finds Ian’s across the table. “You need to eat,” he says. “You’re shaking.” 

“My stomach is in knots.” 

“I know,” Mickey says. “Just eat a few bites,” he says. He spears the other link of sausage and holds it out for him. “Eat this.” 

Ian looks down at his plate. 

“Eggs and vegetables, I get it,” Mickey says. “But look at this sausage. It’s perfect. Salty as hell and there’s a shitload of syrup on it. You’ll love it.” 

Ian grins. “You’re pretty into sausage,” he says. “I don’t know why I’m so surprised.” He winks. 

Mickey shakes his head. He gestures with the sausage again. “Just eat it. Eat this and I won’t bug ya anymore.” 

Ian leans forward and pulls the sausage off the fork with his teeth. Mickey looks around nervously. It didn’t even occur for Ian to take it off with his fingers. 

Mickey’s right. It’s perfect. He washes it down with some coffee. 

“There,” Mickey says. “Good.” 

Ian looks around the diner. “I wonder if anyone here knows her.” 

Mickey glances around. ‘What do we really know about her? We’ve seen her in a band picture.” 

Ian thinks of everything Elizabeth linked. He feels like he shouldn’t keep it from Mickey, but he doesn’t know how to explain it. His stomach churns. He breaks off some of his omelet. It’s cold and rubbery by now, but he tries to chew it. 

“What about the music department?” Mickey shoves more pancakes in his mouth. 

“She couldn’t teach,” Ian says. “She’s not an Alpha.” 

“Yeah,” Mickey says. “But maybe somethin’ else?” 

Ian shrugs. “I suppose that’s the best place to start.” 

Mickey shoves his plate aside. “Eh.” 

Ian meets Mickey’s eyes. 

“You’re gonna do it,” Mickey says. “You’ll find her. We’ll find her. You got her clothes. You’ll track her.” 

“It’s just. The university is huge. It’s winter. It’s hard to smell in winter. I’m sure summer would be a lot easier.” 

Mickey shrugs. “Still think you’ll be able to do it.” 

Ian pulls his backpack onto his lap and holds it close. He wants to smell the clothes, but he doesn’t want to take them out. He doesn’t want anything to disturb the scent. 

Mickey nods. “Okay, let’s get outta here. I can tell you need to start looking.” 

“Thanks,” ian says. “Yeah. Yeah, I gotta go.” 

 

The moment they are outside, Ian pulls the heavy bag out with Clara’s clothes. He unzips it and brings the bag to his nose. He smells deeply. He feels a tingling all over. His head spins in a good way. 

She smells good. And familiar. And perfect. 

“Okay,” he says. “Okay, let’s go over. There’s a few buildings a few blocks up. We’ll start there. Someone can tell us where the music department is. Even if she isn’t there, maybe someone knows her.” 

Mickey nods. “Sounds like a plan.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cigarettes. He opens the box and swears. 

“What? You’re out?” 

Mickey shakes his head. “Forgot to buy them at the station back there.” 

“Okay,” Ian says. He looks around. He squints down the block. “It looks like there’s a little convenience store down there. We’ll go there first.” 

“Thanks,” Mickey says. “Just take a second.” 

Ian takes a deep breath. “Thanks. Sorry I’m so...I mean, I just feel really, I don’t know, anxious? I’m glad you came.” 

Mickey looks around again before he slips his hand into Ian’s. “Course,” he says. 

“Let’s go over,” Ian says. 

Mickey nods. They pass a hookah shop. A Subway. Some sort of fancy coffee shop. They wait to cross the street for the store. 

“Just be a second,” Mickey says again. 

“It’s okay,” Ian says. “I’ll be okay.” Mickey tries to open the door for him, but Ian stops. “I’m just gonna be out here,” he says. “Smell this shirt a little.” 

After Mickey goes inside, Ian leans back against the brick. He carefully unzips a corner of the package again. He’s afraid to open it much wider. He doesn’t want to lose it. He feels that tingle again.  
He zips it back up and closes his eyes. 

Mickey swings out again and lights the cigarette. “Thanks,” he says. He passes it over Ian’s direction but Ian shakes his head. 

“Asked the kid in there,” he says. “He says music’s way the fuck on the other side. We gotta get the car.” 

Ian breathes out. “Okay,” he says. “Sure.” 

They are in the middle of crossing the street when Ian stops in his tracks. A car leans on the horn, but Ian just stands there. 

“Ian!” 

He shakes his head. Eyes wide. “I can smell her.” 

“C’mere,” Mickey says. “Get outta the street. It’s probably still stuck in your nose from the bag.” 

Ian shakes his head hard. He turns in a circle, sniffing hard. Another car honks. He doesn’t budge. 

“Ian!” 

“Mick, she’s right here somewhere.” 

“Hey!” Some guy sticks his head out the window. “Get the fuck out of the street.” 

Ian feels his eyes flash. He punches the hood of the car. “Shut the fuck up!” 

The guy freezes and slowly put his head back in the window. 

Ian is still panting, looking around at all the cars. His head spins. 

“Ian.” 

He feels Mickey’s hand on his arm. 

“Ian, get out of the street. Please.” 

Ian lets himself be pulled. It’s a good idea. The second he steps on the sidewalk he can smell her more. There. He can smell her more as he walks down the block. There’s an italian restaurant on the corner. He stands under the awning. “Here,” he says. “I think here.” 

“Check again,” Mickey says. “Lasagna’s probably getting you confused.” 

Ian feels a twinge of annoyance. He doesn’t want to be interrupted. He pulls the bag out again and smells. Mickey’s right. She isn’t in there. But she’s close. He can feel his heart beating in his ears. 

There’s a flood of her, suddenly, even in the snow. He spins around again. There. Across the street on the opposite corner, close to the convenience store where he started all this. 

“There! She’s there! She’s in the bookstore.” He yanks on Mickey’s arm. He dodges cars as they honk at them. 

Ian expects some sort of bell on the door, but there isn’t one. 

He smells her. Right away. She isn’t at the front counter, but she’s somewhere nearby. 

There are stacks of yellowing books all over the floor. The shelves are bowing under the weight of everything. There’s that smell of a used bookshop that mixes with Clara. He surprises himself. He doesn’t start running around the shop. He stands still. 

His heart is pounding. 

He can hear a door at the back of the store close. A door to the outside, because there is a rush of cold. 

He hears her. A little “brr!” and her stomping her feet to get the snow off. He hears her sniff once to clear the cold out of her nose.

Sniff. 

Sniff.

Ian can almost hear her heart beating. It is a very strange feeling. It comes over him and his body trembles. 

“Oh my god,” she breathes. He can hear her. “H-” there’s a pause. Her voice cracks when she speaks again. “Hello? Who’s there?” 

He can’t see her, but he can hear her coat unzip fast. He smells it. Her. A wave over the scent of dusty books. He could almost touch it. She’s still out of sight. He doesn’t know what to say. His mouth doesn’t move. 

“Hey,” Mickey says. “Over here.” 

Ian hears her moving through the stacks. He catches a glimpse of pink through one of the bookshelves. 

He hears her voice crack. “Where are you? Where’s–”

She freezes when she sees them. She’s breathing hard. She’s looking from Mickey to Ian to Mickey again. She shakes her head. Ian notices she doesn’t have the bob anymore. The bob he saw when they were in the memory of the club. Her hair is pulled away from her face. 

Braided. 

She’s beautiful. 

She has a thick scarf around her neck. She doesn’t take it off. 

He can’t see if she is bonded. 

Her eyes are teary. “I thought you were–” she swallows hard. “Who are you?” 

Ian takes a step forward but she steps back. “It’s okay,” Ian says. He puts up his hands. “We’re not gonna hurt you. I swear.” 

“Who–who sent you here?” 

“Look,” Ian says. “Okay, I’m Ian. And this is Mickey. He pauses. He whispers “Cameras?” He looks around the room. 

Clara shakes her head. She sniffs again. She takes a step forward. 

Ian hesitates. “She’s not doing well. She’s...she’s really sick.” 

He sees Clara swallowing over and over. “How,” she whispers. “How sick?” 

“Sick,” Mickey says. “Real sick.” 

“Is she–” her eyes search his. “Is she going to…could she...die?” 

“That’s what they were saying,” Ian begins. “But I thought maybe you–”

Clara covers her face with her hands. Her sobbing is immediate. 

“Wait,” Ian tries to say through her sobbing. “Let me finish. I thought if you could come with us, maybe you could help her? They think it's that thing when you get separated from, you know, each other?” He swallows. From each other. But, if Clara's bonded, then what? His head throbs.

She shakes her head. She can’t catch her breath. 

“Ian,” Mickey says. He yanks at his arm. “Take the sweatshirt off. Give it to her.” 

Ian yanks his coat off and unzips the hoodie. “Here,” he says quickly. “Here, do you want to wear this?” 

She nods, fingers pressing into her eyes. 

“Okay,” Ian says. He steps forward slowly. He drapes the hoodie around Clara’s shoulders. “Here,” he says quietly. He gently pulls one hand away from her face. She lets her arm fall, lets Ian guide an arm into the sleeve. She quickly reaches back to slide it on the rest of the way. 

She’s swimming in it. She lifts the sleeves to her nose, breathing in, closing her eyes. “I can smell her,” she whispers into the wrists. “I never thought I’d smell her again.” 

The moment is broken by Mickey’s voice. “Who else is on you?” 

Her eyes open. “What?” Her eyes are wide. She doesn’t move the sleeves away from her face. “What do you mean?” 

Mickey takes a step forward. Ian doesn’t know this. Doesn’t know what’s happening. He’s so overwhelmed with Elizabeth’s scent and the scent he tracked he doesn’t smell anything else. Books and traces of people, but nothing noteworthy. 

“You got someone on you,” Mickey says. “You bonded?” 

She brings her hands away from her face. “What?” 

Mickey crosses his arms. Ian comes closer. He smells deeper. Mickey’s right. 

Ian takes a careful breath. “Is it the guy? That guy you brought back for Christmas? Elizabeth said you guys–” 

“No!” she says quickly. “No. No. No way. We broke up after that.” 

Mickey squints at her. “How come? Were you gonna come back to her?” 

“I wanted to,” she says. “I wanted to so bad. I just. I knew she wouldn’t have taken me back. She wouldn’t.” 

“She _would_ have,” Ian says softly. “She still would. She loves you. She didn’t stop loving you.” 

She blinks her eyes again, wipes at them. “People said she started working for the hospital. And she was dating.” 

Ian cringes. “No,” he says. “No, she wasn’t dating. Not really.” 

She shifts her feet. “We have this friend,” she says. “From this club. She’s another Alpha. She was dating this beta for awhile. They broke up. The beta and I always got along, so she texted me and said she saw Elizabeth dancing with some girl. They left together. I hadn’t even been gone that long.”

The girl. The girl in the car. If the timeline is this close, it could have been her. 

Ian doesn’t know what to say. He shakes his head. “It’s not like that,” he says. “Wasn’t. Isn’t.” 

She shakes her head. “I wanted to come back,” she said. “After the guy and I broke up. I wanted to tell her. That we broke up. That I made a mistake.”

“Why’d you break up?” 

She breathes out heavily. “Because I’m, you know.” 

Mickey huffs a little laugh. “Gay?” 

She shrugs. “Well, yeah. I guess so.”

“You guess so?” 

She has a tiny smile. “I mean, I tried to just...not. Not be. But it didn’t work. I wasn’t even with him that long. It just...I mean, I didn't like his...I mean…”

“His dick?”

Ian shoves him. “Shh!”

“Cause you like pussy too much?” 

Clara flushes red immediately. 

“Mickey!”

“It’s okay,” Clara says, cheeks still red. She’s zips up Elizabeth’s sweatshirt. A little shiver. Eyes shining briefly. So quick that Ian would miss it if he didn't know what it meant. “He’s not...he’s not _wrong_ or anything. It’s true.” She has a little laugh in her voice. “I do. Like it. A lot. A lot-lot. So.” 

“So you can’t. I mean, you didn’t… _bond_ with him, did you?” Ian says carefully. 

Her eyes fly wide. She shakes her head, incredulous. “Oh my god, _no!_ I mean, there’s no way. A guy? I would never. I mean, I could _never_ –” 

“Take your scarf off,” Mickey says evenly. 

She freezes. “Huh?” 

“Take it off,” he says. “Who’s on you?” 

Clara puts her hand on her scarf. It doesn’t budge. “Wait, I know what you’re thinking. With the smell on me. It’s not like that. It’s not. I have roommates. Tiny apartment.”

Mickey shakes his head. “This is more than tiny apartment.”

“Wait! She looks down. “I’m wearing my roommate’s tights.” She looks up again. She cringes. “It’s probably the tights.”

“You’re wearing your roommate’s _tights?_ ” Mickey says. “Isn’t that like her underwear?” 

Ian rolls his eyes. “Tights aren’t underwear.” 

“Look,” she says. “I was on my way out the door and she said I had a rip in the back of mine. I have to walk here, so she gave me hers. I needed the heavy weight under my skirt. Tights. Heavy ones, not thin ones, I mean. This is all she had. I was gonna change into jeans but all our clothes are dirty. The machine in the building is broken.” 

Ian almost laughs. He can tell she’s telling the truth. He can feel it. He looks over at Mickey, his raised eyebrows. 

“Tights are almost underwear,” Mickey says. “She wears them way up on her. By her junk. C’mon. They’re underwear.” 

“No they’re _not!_ Her arms flop up and down as she sighs.“They’re _tights!_ They’re almost like leggings. Like, almost pants!” 

“She’s an Alpha though?” 

She shrugs. “Yeah? So?” 

“I can tell,” Mickey says. 

Ian feels a strange tingle. He doesn’t know where it’s coming from. For a moment, he feels like he’s almost outside his body. Something turns up in his brain, like a tiny buzzing, and he can’t hear anything else. 

When he snaps back into his body, he hears Clara explaining that yes, she lives with an Alpha. And a strong beta. And sometimes the beta’s beta girlfriend. And no, she’s not dating anyone. 

Ian fights a shiver, then clears his throat. “So not dating,” he says slowly. “What about, um…”

She pauses. “I’ve gone out with a few people. I mean, I.” She sighs and looks at her feet. She raises the sleeve to her nose again and breathes. “I mean, once I heard Elizabeth was out there, I guess I figured that was that. So yeah, I mean, I was with other people. Girls, I mean.” 

Mickey makes a little noise. “Alphas?” 

She pauses, then slowly nods. 

“Any of ‘em bite you?” 

“Mick!” 

He looks over. “Answer the question.” 

Ian shakes his head. “Mick, look.” 

“It’s okay,” Clara says. “I mean, yeah. But not, like that. Just kind of, like." She takes a deep breath. "Hard or whatever. But not like that! No way. I kind of wanted to once, but it was just my heat talking. It wasn’t real.” 

“Wait,” Ian says. “You got a heat? Without Elizabeth?” 

“Just one. Full heat. I've been on the edge but could suppress with blockers and put myself in a hotel room to be sure.”

Mickey nods. 

She freezes. “Don’t tell her. She’d be. She wouldn’t react well.” 

Mickey is quiet. They are all quiet. 

When Mickey finally speaks again, he moves closer to her. “You force it?” 

Clara stands there, motionless. She slowly shakes her head. No.

“Then how? I’ve gotten heats cause of him. Since he Revealed. Because he’s my,” he shrugs, a little shy. “My Alpha or whatever. I didn’t before them cause I was drugged the fuck out on the fuckin’ beta pills. Still on some of em. But I keep almost doin’ it because of him. Ian.” 

It hits something deep in Ian’s Alpha brain. All of a sudden he wants to knock down all the stacks of books and start fucking Mickey. Bite Mickey. Claim– 

Clara cringes. She’s looking at him. His pulled eyes. “Yikes,” she says under her breath. 

“What,” Mickey says. Ian looks over. Mickey rolls his eyes. “Jesus Christ, Ian.” 

“Sorry,” he says. He shakes his head, tries to shake it off. “Sorry.”

“I’ve,” Clara says. “I kind of experiment sometimes. With my pills. I made a mistake and kicked off a heat.” 

The thought comes back to Ian. What Elizabeth said that first day they met. That Clara was doing research. That she wanted to move away and experiment with their meds. 

That they weren’t dangerous. 

That the government was wrong. 

That medicine was wrong. 

Ian swallows. “Experiment how?” 

“Well,” she says. She stops. “You know what? I’m not ready to say. I need to,” she looks around the shop. “I need to talk to you guys some more first. I don’t even know you.” 

“Look,” Ian says. “I know this is weird. But you have to trust me, okay? Because we have her sweatshirt, all right? And it smells just like her, right?” 

Clara holds it close. She nods. “But what if you’re, like. How do I know you’re telling me the truth?” 

“What,” Mickey huffs. “You think we’re lyin’?” He shakes his head. “You’re the one with Alpha all over you and won’t show your neck.” 

She freezes. “How do I know you’re not…” She looks around the room nervously. “Not…” 

Ian shakes his head fast. “We’re not,” he says. “Look. Elizabeth and I are linked. You know what I mean by that, right?” 

She breathes a little “oh.” She nods slowly. “She always wanted someone. Who could get what it would be like to be her. Someone who was _like her._ Pack?” 

Ian nods. “I’m telling the truth,” he says. “I promise we are.” 

She looks from Mickey to Ian to back again. 

Mickey tosses something in her direction. It’s Ian’s backpack. She holds it, looking down, before slowly looking up. 

“Look in it,” he says. “You’ll know we’re telling the truth. When you see the shirt we have in there. We know what it means.” 

She slowly, so slowly, peeks inside. She breathes in a shaky little breath as she pulls the band shirt out of the bag. “Oh my god,” she whispers. “She kept this? She.” She pulls the sweater out of the bag and starts crying openly, just a little. Trying to hold it back. “Oh my god. She loved this. I didn’t know she had it. I was wearing it when she came to school. The day that she Revealed. She came to school and,” she grips the material and shakes her head fast. “I didn’t know she kept, I mean, I didn’t know she–.” She frantically wipes at her eyes with the sleeve of Elizabeth’s sweatshirt. 

“I used the clothes,” Ian says quietly. “To track you. Kind of. It’s how I found you here.” 

She sniffs hard. “Really?” She attempts a little laugh. “That’s something she would do. She’s so-” The color suddenly drains from her face. “Oh god,” she says. “You said. You said she’s sick. I need to,” her eyes race around the room. She’s breathing so hard she starts to panic. “I need to. I need to see her. I need–”

“Wait,” Mickey says. “We gotta see first. Your neck. We gotta make sure no one’s gonna be in the way.” 

Her breath comes fast and faster. She can’t focus. 

“Clara,” Ian says. He takes her shoulders in his hands and tries to bend to her level. Calm her down.“We can help you. We’ll go to your apartment and we’ll pack some stuff and we’ll get in the car and we’ll drive and we’ll get there. I told her I’d bring you. I promised.” She slows down and meets his eyes. “But we gotta make sure you’re not. Not–” 

Her eyes are wide and she pulls away from Ian’s hands. Slowly, very slowly, her hand reaches for her scarf. She untangles it from around her neck. 

There is nothing there. 

“Oh, thank fuck,” Ian says. “Okay,” he says. “Okay, let’s go. You don’t have to wash your clothes. It’ll be better if you don’t, anyway.” 

“Except those tights,” Mickey says. “Can't wear those. No tights.” 

“No tights,” Clara breathes. Smiling. Flushed. 

Beautiful. 

*

“Come in. I’ll just be a second. Get changed. Pack some stuff,” she says. She takes her coat off but keeps Elizabeth’s sweatshirt on. She keeps smelling the wrists. Ian wonders if there’s a concentration there or it’s just the way she can smell it easily. “Go ahead and sit down.” She goes into the kitchen and Ian can hear her talking with someone quietly. 

“Ian, we really gotta get going,” Mickey says. “Can you feel her? Is she-”

Ian shakes his head. “I keep feeling weird. I think it's her trying to talk to me. But I'm too far away.”

The voices rise in the kitchen.

“I thought you guys were done,” a voice says. Strong. Alpha. 

“Look,” Clara says gently. “You knew I would never be done with her. You knew if she needed me I’d go back.” 

There’s a pause. It gets heavy. 

“You _knew_ this,” Clara says. “And she really needs me right now, Jo. It's serious. It's really serious. She-” 

“You’ll get sucked back into everything there. You promised you wouldn't go back to Chicago. You said we were going to keep working on the plan here. It’s important. We only need a few more people and we can–”

“ _Listen_!” Clara says. “How do you know she doesn’t want to help? You won't even give her a chance. We already have some friends there who are on board. We _need_ her if this is going to work. You know that.” 

“This isn’t even about that,” Jo spits. “You don’t give a _shit_ about what we all worked for here, do you? Queen Elizabeth calls and you go running, huh?” 

There is a long pause. When Clara speaks again, her voice is firm and dark. “You knew this from the beginning. You knew who I was in love with.” 

Another pause. A weight in the air. Heavy. Heavy. Mickey turns to Ian, wide eyed. “What the fuck?” he whispers. “Thought she said she wasn’t dating anyone.” 

“Shhh!” 

There’s a little rumble from the kitchen. “Clara. This isn’t a good idea.” 

“It is. It is a good idea. I have to go. Now.” 

“But when are you coming back?” 

There’s a long pause. 

“I don’t know,” Clara says. 

A pause again. “What about your stuff?” 

Clara doesn’t respond. 

“Clara, what about–” 

Clara raises her voice. “I don’t _know_ , okay? Look, if you need someone to move in, that’s fine. I’ll figure it out if I get back.”

“If?”

“Yeah,” she says. “If. If you want I can just bag everything up. Leave for good.”

Ian hears her clear her throat. The other Alpha. “Yeah. Yeah. I think that’s a good idea.” 

There’s a long silence. Ian fights the urge to go into the kitchen. 

“Okay,” Clara says. “If that’s how you want it.” 

“Yeah,” the Alpha says. “That’s how I want it.” 

“Fine,” Clara says quietly. “I’ve got some money in my room for rent. I’m closing out my bank accounts to be safe. I told Dan the bookstore key was under the mat.”

“Forget it,” the Alpha says. “It’s fine. Just go.” 

“Fine. Okay.”

Ian expects Clara to have wet eyes when she comes back into the living room, but she doesn’t. She looks determined. Almost angry. She’s holding some white garbage bags. “Hey guys,” she says. “I guess I gotta clear out altogether. Give me a few extra minutes?” 

“I can help,” Mickey says. It startles Ian, almost. Him volunteering. “We really gotta get on the road.” 

Ian folds his hands in his lap. His mind begins to race. He feels that tingling again. He catches himself breathing hard. Maybe he drank too much coffee? He can’t focus on anything. He looks at the old rug on the wood floor. He closes his eyes. He gets a flash. A flash of Elizabeth. Wind. She’s alive. He knows she’s still alive.

“Who are you?” 

Ian’s eyes pop open. “Shit,” he says, surprised. 

The other Alpha–Jo–is leaning against the doorframe. She’s tall, but not as tall as Elizabeth. Her hair is dark. Short. 

“I'm Ian,” he says. He gestures with his chin toward the hall. “That's my boyfriend Mickey.”

Jo stares at him long and hard. “Why did you come here?” 

Ian stares back. “She already told you why.” 

She shakes her head. “This is really manipulative, you know that? Do you have any idea how much it hurt her when she found out Elizabeth was fucking other girls?” 

“I know,” he says. “But Clara was the one who ended it first. With that guy? Anyway. It doesn’t matter. They’ve both been with other people. We’re all adults. We can handle it.” 

Jo’s eyes pull a little black. “She can’t just _make_ Clara come back. She can’t snap her fingers and–”

“You have _no_ fucking idea what you’re talking about. She’s not snapping her fingers. She’s–” He shuts his mouth fast. He doesn’t want to tell her. Trust her. Not with this. Elizabeth being sick. 

Jo growls. 

Ian stands up and finds her in the doorway. “Look,” he says, low and serious. Alpha. “I’m really sorry you got your feelings hurt. I’m sorry she’s turning you down and picking someone else.” She falters, but Ian wants to twist the knife. “She was always going to pick her. You know it.” 

Her eyes blow fast. Another rumble. “You don’t fucking get it,” she spits. She gets closer to him. “She went through a _heat_ with me. She started a heat and crawled in my bed and she barely left it for three days.”

“Watch it,” Ian growls. Growls. 

Her smile stretches as wide as her eyes. “Did you hear me? I fucked her for _three days._ We didn’t even sleep. I fucked her in every single way you could even _begin_ to think of. She went down on me for hours. I fucked her from behind. I spanked her. She loved it. I let her ride my face all morning. Made her come all over me. I left my marks all over her breasts. She begged me to claim her. She _begged_ me.” 

“Stop it,” Ian growls. He bares his teeth.

Her eyes pull harder. “Tell Elizabeth. Tell her.” A brightness that cuts. She looks him up and down. “Or maybe you don’t even have to tell her. She’ll be able to feel it. Everything I’m telling you. You’re linked, right? Otherwise you wouldn’t give a fuck that I was saying any of this. Maybe she can hear me right now. Who knows?” 

“I said _stop it,_ ” Ian says. If she were taller, they’d be nose to nose. 

Jo growls. “You think you can just take her out of here and I’ll just let it go? Just like that?” She shakes her head. “You tell Elizabeth that I went through a heat with her. That I learned all the different ways she tastes. All the ways she likes to get fucked. How I fucked her-”

“Jo?” Clara stands there, sad plastic bags hanging from her hands. “What. You. What are you saying?” She drops the bags on the floor. She shakes her head, incredulous. “Why are you saying this? Like that?” She swallows fast. Faster. She shakes her head again. “I,” she says. “ _trusted_ you. With that.” Her voice shakes. “With me.” 

Jo’s face falls. 

“I don't like that,” Clara says, blinking fast.“I don't like when people talk about sex like that. When people say that stuff. So hard like that. Elizabeth never said-” her voice breaks. “I’m not...a thing. She never made me feel like a thing.” She shakes her head hard. “I’m not a thing.” 

“I didn't mean it like you were a _thing_ ,” Jo says quickly, scrambling. “You aren't. Of course you're not.”

“But you're-”

“I’m sorry, okay?”

Ian fights another growl. She’s not sorry. 

“But look,” Jo says.”Think about the big picture. Think about-”

“I want to leave,” she says to Mickey. She sniffs. Wipes her nose with Elizabeth’s sweatshirt. She turns toward Jo. “I’m not coming back. You’re,” she breathes in sharply. “You’re.”

She doesn’t finish. 

Clara pulls her coat on again. She zips it up over the hoodie. 

“Clara,” Jo says. “Wait. Listen. I’m sorry. I know you’re mad at me. But we need each other. What about the plans? We need to stay connected. We all need to stay connected. The Resistance–” 

She whips around. “Stop.” She breathes heavily. 

Jo’s mouth closes. She shifts from foot to foot. Ian watches her swallow fast. Her eyes begin to well with tears. 

Clara clears her throat.“I don’t want to be here anymore.” 

“Yeah,” Mickey says. “Yeah.” He steps closer to Jo, looks her up and down. “ _Fuck_ you.”

He takes Clara’s bags and opens the door for her. 

Ian stares at Jo. Her eyes have pulled back. 

“I’m sorry,” Jo says. “Please. When she calms down? Please tell her that.” 

Ian keeps his eyes dark. “No.”

He leaves the door open. 

Ian doesn’t know what to say when they reach the street. She is holding two garbage bags. Mickey is holding four. 

Finally Mickey speaks. “How long were you with her?” 

She doesn’t say anything at first. She puts her bags down and reaches for Mickey’s. 

“Nothing happened until then,” she says quietly. “Just the heat. God, I’m _so stupid._ ” She shakes her head, sniffs hard. “I should have felt it coming. I could have tried to fight it off with emergency suppressants. At least get out of the neighborhood! At least go to a club or something! I would have been better off with some stranger, even if it got dangerous. I didn’t want this to happen. Be with someone I knew. But it came in the early morning and I couldn’t...I mean, I couldn’t get out of my apartment. My omega wouldn’t let me. When an Alpha is right there, sometimes you just can’t. It’s that simple.”

She reaches down and pulls the bag open, peers into it. She knots it and puts it on the snowbank. 

“I never imagined it would happen. I didn't think of her like that. But then, I mean, in the heat I wanted to,” she says. “I mean, she’s a nice person. Or at least I thought she was. She’s never talked like that. I couldn't believe she was talking like that. About what happened. Me.”

“Her Alpha was out of control,” Ian says gently. “I could feel it. She’s...it’s extremely possessive of you. It was the Alpha talking.” 

“The Alpha is still her,” Mickey says firmly. “It’s not an excuse for talking like that if Clara don't like it.”

Clara sighs, a quick shake of the head. “It was only then. Just those three days. I almost moved out after that. I was so embarrassed. And it was just so weird and awkward afterwards. But then it got better. We didn’t talk about it. So I didn’t think it meant she was, like, attached. I don’t know why I thought that. That she would just stop thinking about it. But we never did anything else. We don’t even sit next to each other on the couch.” 

“When was the heat?” 

She hesitates. “Maybe like 6 months ago?” 

“She was probably hoping it would happen again? You think?” 

She nods. She reaches out for one of the trash bags. She does the same thing. She looks into one, knots it, and sets it in the snow. She sets the other one next to her. “I just,” she says. Her eyes look wet again, but it could just be the cold. “I really regret it. That it was like that. My first time. I mean, first time in a full heat after Reveal. I wish it had been with Elizabeth. I wish it would have been someone I love. But I didn't think Elizabeth even want me at all. Being with her was never even an option after the way things ended. And then this whole thing happened. It's just so messed up. She’s gonna hate me. She won’t even want me. She’ll–”

“Stop,” Ian says. “That’s in the past, okay?” 

She shrugs. She opens another bag. 

“What’re you looking for?” 

“I’m not looking for anything,” she says. “Just checking that I,” she sets the other bags on the snowbank. She picks up the bag next to her feet. The only bag. “I only need this. I’m ready.” 

Ian looks at the snowbank. “We have room,” he says. “The trunk’s big.” 

She shakes her head. “This is all I need. I don’t need much. I’m done with all of this.” 

Mickey shoves his hands into his pockets. “You’re just gonna leave all this stuff here?” 

“Yeah.” She reaches back and pulls Elizabeth’s hood over her head. “I don't need anything else. I’m ready.” 

*

They are only an hour and a half outside Chicago when Ian’s phone rings. He doesn’t know the number, but he answers anyway. 

“Hello?” 

There’s a pause. “Hello,” a voice says. 

Mickey looks over at him. “Hang up,” he mouths. 

Ian pulls the phone away from his ear. “I think it’s Adam,” Ian whispers. 

Another pause. “Stop and buy a burner. Right now. Call me back. 555-268-1895.” 

“Adam, is she–”

Adam hangs up.

Ian speeds up. “We’re supposed to get a burner. Call him at 555-268-1895” he says. “Get some paper out of the glovebox.” 

“Nah,” Mickey says. “I’ll remember.” He gestures at the road sign. “That’s a big station. But this is the suburbs already. I know they carry them in the city, but.” 

“Wait,” Clara says from the backseat. “What about Elizabeth? What's going on?” 

Ian shakes his head as he exits. “I don’t know. He didn’t say.” 

“I’ll go in,” Mickey says. “I know what I’m lookin’ for. It’ll be less suspicious.” 

“You think it will be suspicious?” Clara leans forward. “Are we even safe?” 

Ian and Mickey share a look. 

Clara breathes out. “Of course we’re not. I imagine things have only gotten worse,” she says. “They certainly have in Minneapolis.” 

Mickey turns in his seat. “Why? What’s goin’ on there?” 

Ian looks in the rearview mirror. Clara looks out the window. “I have to wait until I know we’re safe,” she says. “I can’t take any chances.” 

Ian nods. “Okay,” he says. He puts the car in park. Mickey jumps out and goes inside. 

Clara is still looking out the window. Ian turns to look at her. “How are you feeling? About everything?” 

Clara doesn’t look at him. “I’m glad I’m gone,” she says. 

Ian opens and closes his mouth. “Jo?” 

She shrugs. “I just really hated all that. The way she talked about me back there. When we,” She takes a deep breath and shakes her head. “Had sex. She was really different. Different during it. And I know in a heat the Alphas enter this new Alpha space. It’s the way they can have stamina and make sure they can keep up. Because of the whole heat thing? The length of the heat? My heat made it so impossible for me to stop. Because of course my body wanted it. I wanted it. But her style wasn’t me.” 

“Like how? Did she hurt you?” 

She shakes her head. “No. She didn’t hurt me. At the time, it was fine. It felt like exactly what I needed. It felt really good, actually. But now my feelings are hurt and of course I’m just replaying my heat and wishing things were different. Even then, in the heat, even though I liked it, I kept wishing it wasn’t so...rough? Rough I guess? It was just so different. It wasn't like Elizabeth. And every other person I was with was mostly uneventful, There were two after him. And one after Jo. I needed to kind of clear her from my mind.” 

Ian watches her reach back to slide the hood of the sweatshirt over her head. She leans back against the seat and looks directly at Ian.

“Elizabeth is just so gentle with me. She’s so strong. She’s so sure of herself. But she’s also so soft. Vulnerable. It’s part of why I love her. I always have. Even before Reveal. I loved her then. I I knew she loved me, but I didn’t know how to tell her. I was too nervous to kiss her, so I didn’t. I just hoped she would. When we were in bed, before? I just wanted her to kiss me. Roll on top of me. Touch me. I wanted to learn how to please her. I wanted my first time to be with her.” Her eyes are bright. “Did she tell you? About my Reveal?” Ian nods. “I remember thinking, the moment I sat up, how happy I was that she was _right there_. That it was her. That it was going to happen. That _we_ were going to happen. Finally. And it was all I ever hoped for. Loving her.” 

She looks down at her hands, When she lifts her head, her eyes are brighter. Much brighter. She doesn’t try and hide them.

“But the way she is? Strong, sure of herself, but soft? That’s why I love to make love with her. It’s her whole self. She uses all of it. She can do all of that. With me. To me. And it’s perfect. I feel safe with her. I’ve never felt so safe in my life. Every time. Every time feels like the first, only better. Everything she touches just kind of lights up.” she pauses, a shaky breath. “I can feel her everywhere. There’s just _so much._ All I can smell is her. All I can taste is her. It feels so overwhelming. In such a good way. Omegas just get so overwhelmed, you know? And we need to be cared for. It’s so scary when you don’t feel cared for. Like you’re being. Like you’re just being used. Just a body. A thing. Some sort of Alpha toy. That’s how omegas can feel when we don’t feel a connection with someone.” 

Ian glances at the gas station. Tries to look for Mickey. He looks back. “I didn’t know that,” he says. “About feeling like a thing. A toy. I’m sorry.” 

She breathes in and out. “I need to see her,” she says quietly. “I need to see her, Ian. I don’t care what she looks like. I don’t even care if she’s.” She swallows hard, but the tears come. “I don’t even care if she’s dead. I need to see her. Promise me. Promise me I can see her.” 

He swallows hard. He can’t let himself believe it. That her being dead is even possible. “I want to promise,” he says. “I wish I could promise.” 

Mickey opens the door. “Last one,” he says. He pulls out a pocketknife and starts tearing at the package. He messes around with the phone for a while. Finally, he gestures toward Ian's phone. “Give me your phone.” 

Ian hands it over. 

Mickey opens the car door again. “Hang on.” 

Ian realizes what he’s doing a second too late. Mickey throws his phone on the ground and stomps on it repeatedly. He picks up the pieces and throws them in the trash. 

Mickey gets back into the car. “Start driving,” he says to Ian. “We gotta hurry.” He holds the phone to his ear. He stares at Ian. He can tell when Adam picks up. 

“What’s up,” Mickey says. A long pause. “Okay, where?” A pause. Mickey looks over at Clara. “Okay,” he says. “Good. That’s good. See ya.” 

Ian merges onto the freeway. “Is she…”

“She’s alive,” Mickey says. “But he had to move her. He said some friends helped him. He said Clara would know where to find her.” 

“But I’ve been gone,” she says. “I don’t know everyone there anymore.” 

Mickey nods. “He said you’d know. Look. Elizabeth. Elizabeth knows you’re with us. We didn’t even need to tell her. Adam said that earlier today she could feel Ian in the bookstore. She wasn’t strong enough to really link him, but she felt him. And you.” 

“So she’s awake?” Ian’s jaw drops. “Is she better?” 

Mickey shakes his head. “She’s still slipping in and out. He said she talked a couple times. She said that she could feel Clara in her sweatshirt. Adam told her she wasn’t wearing a sweatshirt. But then remembered you grabbed it before you left. Then it all made sense. But she hasn’t said anything since.”

Clara has panic in her voice. “Where is she? Where did they move her?”

“They said the place you went in the summer? To be alone?” 

Clara shakes her head. “That’s impossible. There’s no way she could be there. It’s a rooftop. It’s freezing cold.” 

Mickey shakes his head. “There’s gotta be another place,” he says. “That sounds like a trap.” 

Clara wipes her hands on her face. “I have to risk it,” she says. “You don’t have to come. But I’m going to.”

“Of course we’re going, Ian says. “Tell me where it is.” 

*

There’s no way she’s here. There’s ice on every step of the busted up building. 

“Ian,” she says. “There’s no way. There’s no way she’s up there. It’s The Institute. We’re going to–they’re going to take us away.”

“The Institute?” Ian vaguely remembers Adam mentioning that in the ambulance. “What’s that? What’s happening?” 

Clara looks over her shoulder. “You don’t have to follow me,” she says. “If it’s a trap, I’m fine. Wherever they take me, I know she’ll be there. I don’t care what happens to me. I don’t. If they have her, they can have me, too.” 

Ian shakes his head, eyes wide in disbelief. “What are you talking about? Clara, don’t say that. What’s wrong? I don’t understand!” 

“Stop following me,” she says. 

“Like fuck that’s gonna happen,” Mickey says. 

Clara shakes her head. “Just stay. Please.” 

They don’t know what to do. They look at each other. Clara finds the ladder and climbs up. She’s gone. 

Mickey shakes his head. “She’s not gonna do this. I’m goin’ up.” 

Ian nods. “Yeah..” 

When they climb up, Ian’s hands are already into fists and Mickey has his pocket knife out. Snow is falling. 

Clara is standing still, looking down at the ground. Her arms wrap around her body. 

Ian walks toward her slowly. “What’s going on?” He looks down. 

Someone broke through the ice and snow, clearing a spot on the roof. There’s something there. A silhouette. 

“What’s this?” Mickey asks. “A bird? What’s this mean?” 

“The Blackbird,” Clara says. 

“Whaddya mean a blackbird?” 

Clara turns. “The Blackbird? You don’t know? It’s a club. It’s secret? I thought you knew it.” 

“Why’s it secret?” Mickey asks. 

“Because people are sometimes off meds,” Ian says. “And something else. I don’t know what it is. It feels different there.” 

Mickey squints at him. “You’ve been there?” 

Ian shakes his head. “It’s hard to explain,” he says. “Once Elizabeth linked me there. I don’t know where it is or anything, but I saw the inside.” 

“We have to be careful getting there.” Clara says. She takes a deep breath. “I think I know. I think I know who has her. Adam has to have passed her off to her.” 

Ian tries to think about what she means. “Who?” 

Clara looks around. “Another Alpha there. Elizabeth doesn’t trust many people, but I know she likes her.”

The woman sitting at the bar. The Alpha that is strong, but not as strong. He saw her sitting there when they linked. The woman Elizabeth sits next to if she’s there. 

“I know who you mean,” Ian says. “I saw her. When she linked me.” 

She nods. “We can trust her,” she says. “She knows a lot of people. She’s on our side. She’s been working on this for a long time.” 

“What do you mean?” Mickey asks. “You keep talkin’ about some sort of plan? What do you mean?” 

Clara knots her brow. She looks from Ian to Mickey to Ian again. “I thought Elizabeth told you?” 

They shake their heads. 

“The Resistance. The underground network?” 

“The _what_?” Ian breathes. 

Clara looks around. “Nevermind,” she says. “Maybe it’s too soon. I don’t know.” She looks down at the blackbird silhouette again. “For all I know, it’s fallen apart here. And we need Chicago on board.”

Ian looks at Mickey, mouth open. 

Clara kicks some snow over the blackbird and grinds it in with her boots. She kicks back, kicks the snow away. It’s just chalk. It was in chalk. And now it’s gone. 

* 

They drove to a warehouse. They got out of the car and walked in a door at the back. They walked inside. It was a garage. A garage full of old cars and junk. Clara reached for a mangled car door on the floor. She shook off Ian’s warning of tetanus and moved it out of the way. A trapdoor.

A ladder. Another room. A hidden key in a rock. Another door. Down stairs. They walked down a long beige hallway. They did all of it, and it’s lead them here. 

She opens another door and knocks. 

The door opens. Another door, this time with a small window covered with green fabric. 

Clara knocks. 

Nothing happens. Ian and Mickey share a look, but Clara waits. 

There’s a tiny bell sound, just like one of those little ones at a desk. 

“The June Sky,” Clara says. 

Two more bell sounds. 

“One Alpha and two omegas.” 

The door opens slowly. 

“It’s okay,” Clara says quietly. “C’mon.” 

They don’t see who was at the window. They walk down yet another hallway. They start to hear music thumping. Muffled, but it’s there. There’s a metal door. Clara knocks three times. 

The door opens, and purple light and music pours out into the hall. The change almost makes Ian jump. It’s a club. It’s just a club like any other club. 

But the smell in this club is almost overwhelming. Alphas. Omegas. Sweat. 

“This way,” Clara shout-says over the music. “At the bar.” 

Ian sees her the minute they get closer. She’s sitting on the end. Short hair. Vest. Tie. It’s her. He’d be able to pick her out anywhere. 

Her eyes get wide when she sees Clara. “There you are!” 

She slides off the stool and stands up. Tall. As tall as Elizabeth. She immediately takes Clara in her arms and hugs her tight. “Thank god you’re here. I’ve been waiting for you. The longer I wait the more I worry. I worry about you a lot, you know!” 

Clara squeezes another moment before she lets go. “Ian. Mickey. This is Nic.” 

“Hey,” Ian says. He extends his hand. 

Nic takes it. When their palms touch, Ian feels his arm tingle. A little buzz. She shakes his hand. She looks down. “Elizabeth always told me I’d feel it if I met you. I know I’m no Elizabeth, but I’m tryin’. Maybe I'll be let into your pack someday.” She looks at them and reaches over to the bar. She throws back a shot of something and gestures to them. They follow her around the corner and into a small hallway filled with curtains. Red curtains. It’s a dead end. There are sounds all around them. Sex sounds. Nic’s eyes pull a second but she blinks them back. 

“I’m sorry for the location,” Nic says quietly. “Closest to privacy we could find here. People are too busy to listen to us.” 

Clara nods. “Nic,” she says. “Where is she? What’s going on?” 

“We took her out,” she says. “We got her out of her apartment and moved her to the clubhouse. Do you remember the place we called the clubhouse?” 

“Of course,” Clara says breathlessly. “Yeah, I remember where it is.” 

“Good,” Nic says. A woman groans in the room next to them. Mickey cringes. 

“How many?” Clara asks. 

“Four,” she says. “But we had a few others come by to mark.” 

Clara nods her head. “Thank you for that,” she says. “I really appreciate it.” 

“Of course,” Nic says. 

“Tell us the truth,” Ian says. “How bad is it?” 

Nic tugs at her shirt sleeve. “Bad. But Adam said it’s nowhere near as bad as she was when you left her. She knows Clara’s coming.” She turns to Clara. “You’re the only reason she’s hanging on, sweet. You’ve gotta get over there.” 

Clara nods. “You know about this stuff more than we do,” she says. “Can we reverse it? Can I help her?” 

Nic hesitates. “I don’t know,” she says. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know.” 

Another moan from somewhere. 

“Okay,” Mickey says. “Okay, we gotta get out of here. Where are we goin’?” 

Nic gestures to leave the area. “I’ll show you,” she says. “But just a second.” She pulls out her phone and types something into it. 

“They’ll meet you in the alley,” she says. 

Clara nods with wide eyes. “We got clearance to go out the other way?” 

“Yeah,” Nic says. “You just gotta be quick, okay?” 

Clara nods again. “Nic, thank you so much.” She hugs her again. “Are you coming to the clubhouse? When am I gonna see you?” 

Nic shrugs. “These days, who knows?” She leans over and kisses Clara’s cheek. “Go ahead,” Nic says. She gestures somewhere to her right. “Be careful.”

The way out of the club is easier. Two doors and a staircase with a fire door. It opens easily, but Mickey holds his knife just in case. 

There’s a black van sitting there. The lights flash once. Clara is almost there when the van door slides open. There’s a person in dark clothes that reaches out for her and pulls her in. Mickey’s about to call out but Clara says “shh!” 

She’s not hurt. It’s just to hurry them along. The person waves Ian and Mickey in fast. They whisper “go go go go go.” Ian and Mickey slide in and the van begins to move before the person has even shut the door. 

Ian is breathing hard. He’s afraid to say anything. 

There’s a deep voice from the front seat. “Clara, you okay?” 

“Yeah,” she pants. “I’m okay. These are my friends Ian and Mickey.” 

“Ian,” someone says. “Elizabeth told us about an Ian, right?”

Someone in the back makes an affirmative sound. 

Another voice. “She says you’re linked?” 

“Yeah,” Ian says. “Yeah, we are.” 

The people don’t introduce themselves, but Ian knows they are all Alphas. Clara climbs up in between the two front seats. She’s whispering quietly. One of them kisses the top of her head. Ian can’t hear anything. 

“Okay,” she says, turning around. “They’re going to drop us at the clubhouse. We’ll be there in a few minutes.” 

Ian can feels Mickey looking at him in the dark. “Okay,” he says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. There are two other people in the back of the van, but no one says anything. He can’t see them. 

“Cut the lights,” the person in the passenger’s seat says. A woman. 

The lights go off and the van slowly moves through the street. New snow is falling. Even in the city, it sounds quiet. 

“You should drop us up the street,” Clara says. 

“She wouldn’t like that,” the deep voice says. “She’d want us to walk you to the door.” 

Clara pauses. A shaky breath. “You’re right. She would.” 

The car stops in front of an ugly apartment building. The door slides open. The figures hang back and turn so Ian can’t see them in the bare hint of light from the streetlights. 

Clara steps out. The woman rolls down the window and pulls her black hood back a little bit. She’s older - maybe in her 40s. “Be careful, kiddo.” 

Clara nods. “I will,” she says. “You too.” 

The woman salutes as the van pulls away. 

Clara sniffs once before she turns around. “Okay,” she says. Ian and Mickey goes toward the the front door but Clara doesn’t move. “I can smell her. Oh my god, Ian. She’s here. Even with all the marks, I can smell her. Can you smell her?” Her eyes are bright. 

Ian tries to concentrate. “No. I don’t smell anything.” 

She nods fast. “She’s here. You probably can’t smell because of the marks.” 

“What’s all this ‘marks’ shit?” Mickey whispers. 

Clara carefully tiptoes on the side of the building until she sees a window. Basement apartment. 

Mickey tries again. “Clara, what’s ‘marks’?” 

Clara taps quietly on the window. She waits. Taps again. “Alphas,” she whispers harshly. “It’s all Alphas in there. Four. But Nic said others came by to mark. It means they came by and rubbed their scents all over the place. The outside, too. Outside usually doesn’t even work, but if not even Ian can smell her, they must have found some strong Alphas to help. It’s to shield her. For anyone bad that might be trying to track her.” 

She taps one more time. “C’mon. Where are you?” 

Ian can see in her face when the curtain pops back. She waves frantically. “Let’s go let’s go,” she says. She rushes over around the corner to the back of the building. By the time Ian and Mickey get there, an Alpha woman is holding open the door. 

“Get in,” she says. “She’s already in there.” 

The woman is right. Clara isn’t even in the hall anymore. There’s an open door in the hallway. Ian’s heart pounds. He tries to link, but he can’t feel anything. 

He realizes he’s tearing up when he shakes his head. Mickey keeps pulling on his shirt but he can’t move. He’s so afraid. 

“C’mon,” Mickey says quietly, and pulls him through the door.

The scent of Alpha almost knocks Ian down. He sees Mickey looking around fast. He moves closer to Ian, breathing hard. Ian grabs at him. His eyes dart around the room. 

“Take deep breaths,” the woman says. She steps in front of Ian, tries to block his vision. “You’re completely safe. No one is challenging you. This is not a challenge. No one will touch your omega. We know he is your omega. No one will cause him harm. Your omega is safe. You are safe in this place. This is not a challenge. The Alphas had to deeply mark this place to keep Elizabeth safe. That's the only reason it feels like this. Okay?” 

Ian didn’t know how fast his eyes had pulled, the growl in his throat, the grip he had on Mickey, until the words leave her mouth. 

“Okay? Can you hear me okay? Do you understand?” 

He nods, slowly. He still feels his fingers gripping Mickey tight. He tries to loosen them. 

He breathes out and looks around the room. There’s another woman and two men. The men are in the kitchen, cooking something. The other woman is poking around at a wide rack of plants under a light. She picks up a small scissors and cuts pieces off. She heads into the kitchen and starts preparing what looks like tea. Suddenly she backs up and rubs her body against the doorway. It’s quick, but enough for Ian to catch it. 

“Once we start it’s hard to stop, right?” she says, catching his eye. When he doesn’t respond, she squints at him. “Have you marked before?” 

He shakes his head. 

“If you feel like you want to,” she says. “Go ahead. You won’t have to think about it. It will just come to you. The urge. The more Alpha marks we have the safer she is.” 

Ian nods. His breath speeds up suddenly. “Wait.” He turns around fast, panic coming over him. “Where is she? Where’s–” 

“Shhh,” the woman at the door says. “She’s in the bedroom. Clara is in there now. We need to give her privacy. They need a little time alone. Clara’s omega traits will kick in hard and we need to give her safe space to do that. We still don’t know how effective this will be. We know that since you found her, Elizabeth’s been more alert. Not very much, but enough that we felt safe moving her from her apartment. Since we’ve been here she’s been opening her eyes every so often. She’s talked a little bit, but her voice is weak.” The woman gestures with her chin to the kitchen. “Laurel’s been able to get some herb tinctures into her. And the boys are nurses, so they ran an IV for her dehydration. That helped a lot. So we were just waiting for you. And now we wait some more.” 

Ian nods. He swallows hard. He can’t feel her. He feels hollow inside. 

“You’re her pack,” one of the nurses says. “Are you feeling okay?” 

“I’m kind of dizzy.” he says. “Maybe it’s just all the Alpha though.” 

“Here,” the woman says. “Sit down here. Tara can get something for you. Being near Elizabeth will probably trigger you since her link is probably weak.” 

Ian swallows hard. He nods. “I can’t feel her,” he says quietly. “I’m scared.” 

Mickey sits down next to him. “Eh,” he says. “We’re all doin’ the best we can. Just gotta breathe. You can breathe, right?” 

Ian slides his hand onto Mickey’s knee and puts his head back on the couch. The room is spinning harder, so he closes his eyes. 

“Here,” a woman says. He opens his eyes. It’s Laurel, with a little cup of something. “It’s gross tasting, I’m not gonna lie. But it should help relax you,” she says. “The sickness of someone in pack can get the others sick too, especially when you’re this close to her The more you’re in the apartment the more chance you have of getting sick if she is. She needs you healthy.” Ian tries to sip from the cup, but it’s murky and it makes him gag. 

“Just throw it back,” Mickey says. 

He does, and shudders and coughs afterward. Tara passes him some water.

“Sit back a minute,” she says. “It should kick in.” He watches her walk back toward the kitchen. She rubs her shoulder against the doorframe as she goes back in. 

Mickey slides his fingers over Ian’s and squeezes. “Hey,” he says. “Hey, I want to tell you something.” 

Ian opens his eyes slowly. 

Mickey bites his lips. “I love you,” he says quietly. “I really fuckin’ ‘love you.” 

Ian breathes heavily. “I really fuckin’ love you, too.” 

Mickey smiles. “C’mere.” 

They kiss. Ian lets Mickey guide it. It’s soft and simple, and it’s perfect for this moment. It’s just what he needs. 

He pulls away and slides his hand against his Mickey’s cheek. He scratches lightly at his hair. 

It’s strange. It does come over him. The urge to rub against something. His first thought is Mickey. He really wants to mark Mickey. But he can’t. Not right now. 

“I think I need to,” he says. “Mark?” 

There’s a little smile on Mickey’s lips. “This I gotta see.” 

There’s a doorway that Ian knows leads to the bathroom, and probably another room with a door closed, right where Elizabeth is. 

He looks around. The woman catches his eye. 

“Do you feel like you need to go in there? Or nearby?” 

Ian nods slowly. 

She looks over toward the kitchen. She opens her mouth, and sounds comes out.

“Holy shit,” Mickey breathes. 

It’s another language. Ian has never heard it before. It’s quiet, round vowels, melodic. She is speaking another language. 

One of the men raises his head and gestures Ian’s direction. He says something in the same language and nods. 

“Okay,” she says. “We think that’s okay. Mark the door first if you can.” 

Ian nods, eyes wide. He turns to Mickey. “Do you wanna come?” 

Mickey looks behind him at the hallway. “I should probably stay,” he says. 

Ian nods again. 

The hallway is small and dark. There’s the bathroom. There is another room with the door shut. He can hear Clara, just a little bit. Quiet. 

He’s about to knock, but suddenly he feels his body pressing up hard against the door. He closes his eyes and swipes his body from side to side. His forehead stays when his body bends away. He gives it one more rub with his cheek and mouth. 

It’s a relief. It made him less nervous about the whole situation. He feels more put together. 

He hears it. 

So quiet he could almost miss it.

“Ian?” 

It’s weak. But it’s her. 

Elizabeth. 

He fights the urge to fling open the door. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, it’s me.” 

“You can come in,” Clara says. “She was just asking for you.” 

He opens the door a crack. Clara is lying on the bed next to her, her arm around Elizabeth’s head, holding her against her chest and shoulder. Elizabeth’s hands hold onto her tight. There’s a small light next to her. She still looks pale, but her lips are less dry and she doesn’t look as sunken in the eyes. Not as dehydrated. He breathes a sigh, and almost immediately he feels tears in his eyes. 

“Ian,” she says. She smiles. “You did it. You found her.” 

That’s it. The tears roll freely down his face. He just stands there, almost afraid to breathe. 

“Hey,” she says again. “Hey, don’t cry. I’m okay,” she says. “Really. I think I might be able to be okay,” she says. “I hope.” 

And he can feel her. Weak. But this close, he can feel her. 

Elizabeth looks up at Clara. “Take down your hair,” she whispers. Her fingertip reaches out but she can't quite get there. “Take out the pins. Got so long.”

“Your hair got so short,” Clara says as she begins to pull out the bobby pins. 

“I missed you,” Elizabeth whispers. 

Clara slides down and kisses her softly. Elizabeth can hardly move her limbs, but her mouth moves against hers firmly. Ian can see the barest hint of her tongue. 

“I’ll just…” Ian begins. 

“Wait,” Elizabeth says, breaking away. “I need you. I need you to touch me,” she says. “I feel good with Clara touching me. I need you to touch me, too.” 

“Okay,” he says. “How?” 

She looks up at Clara. “Can you move me over? Am I too heavy?” 

“Of course not,” Clara says softly, sweetly. “You want him to sit here? Where I am?” 

“No,” she says. “No, he can just sit on the other side. I don’t want you to leave. I never want you to leave again.” 

“I won’t,” Clara says quietly. “Never again.” 

Elizabeth smiles. “No, I’m serious. Never move your arm again. We’ll just live like this forever.” 

Clara laughs quietly. She shuffles her over. Elizabeth winces, but not for long. Ian slides onto the end of the bed and touches her leg. 

“Like this?” 

She nods. “And my head. Touch my head.” 

Ian’s hand raises up and he touches the top of her head. Her eyes fly open and she gasps. “No no no,” Ian chants. He pulls his hand away, but Elizabeth’s hand comes up fast and holds it back on.

“Baby,” Clara says quickly. “What’s going on? Stop. Stop.” 

Elizabeth cringes hard, but when she opens her eyes, they look brighter. More focused. She holds onto his hand and guides it back down, holds it in hers. 

“What the fuck?” His heart is pounding. But he feels it. He starts to feel it. 

Link. 

She smiles. “Welcome back,” she whispers. She coughs hard, but recovers. “Welcome back, link. Oh my god, it came back. We’re back, Ian.” 

He must do something. He doesn’t know what. But before he knows it, Clara moves Elizabeth over again so Ian can lie down. Ian is still crying. He holds her tight. Clara and Ian cross their arms over her stomach and entwine together. 

Elizabeth breathes deeply. “This is helping. I think this is helping. Both of my favorites. I’m feeling stronger already. This might work. Might.”

Ian raises his head. “Yeah?” 

She nods. “Yeah.” 

Ian rubs at Clara’s arm before giving it a little pat. “I should leave you two alone,” he says quietly. 

He starts to move away but Clara pulls on him. “Shhh,” she says. “Don’t move,” she says. 

He looks over and Clara gestures with her eyes. Elizabeth’s eyes are closed. There’s a tiny smile on her lips. Her breath is smooth and even. 

“You have to stay,” Clara says. ‘Please stay. Don’t leave us alone.” 

Ian settles back against them. “Are you scared?” 

Clara doesn’t say anything. 

“We’re safe here,” he says. “Right?” 

Her mouth moves, but the words are barely there. “We’re never safe.” 

 

He’s fallen asleep. He stirs. He can smell Elizabeth under his cheek, his head on her chest. He can smell her. He takes deep, deep breaths and feels his limbs relax. He can feel his arm across Elizabeth’s stomach, holding onto Clara’s forearm. Suddenly, it moves, and he realizes she is whispering. 

He can’t hear what she is saying, but he knows the other person is Mickey. Ian can almost hear them, but not quite. His ears try to focus, and he can hear them. He doesn’t open his eyes. He takes a deep breath. 

“They’re both so tired,” Clara says. “He fell asleep just a couple seconds after she did. I even untangled to go to the bathroom and when I came back they were just holding each other tighter. Like twins in the womb.” 

Ian can feel Elizabeth breathing. It’s deep and relaxed, without the rattle or shallowness he felt before. He still feels a little dizzy, but he nuzzles into her a little more. 

He hears Mickey moving, hears him come closer. He bends and kisses Ian’s cheek.  
“Hey faker,” Mickey whispers harshly. 

Ian can’t help the smile that creeps out. He opens his eyes and offers his lips to be kissed. “Hey.” He looks over and sees Clara smiling at him.

“What a day, huh?” She grins. She looks up at Mickey. “C’mon,” she says. She pats behind her on the bed. “There's room. We can all fit.”

Ian sees Mickey pause. Mickey looks at him, questioning. 

“It's okay,” Ian says. “It'll be nice.”

Mickey peels off his sweater. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Clara sighs when Mickey slides next to her. “This feels nice,” she says. “You can put your arm around me, it's okay.”

“Okay,” Mickey says quietly.

It's quiet after that. Ian feels his body floating, almost. Yet he is anchored there. By her. And her. And him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so Clara's a fluffy romantic who never swears but also wants to overthrow the government <3


	8. Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang finds a safe place to heal. Ian has questions.

“Ian.” 

Her voice is so quiet, but it sounds loud in his ear. He opens his eyes immediately. 

“I need your help,” Elizabeth says, but her mouth isn’t moving. Link. “I need to get up and go to the bathroom.” 

Ian breathes in deeply and blinks his eyes. “I’ll get up,” he says quietly. Out loud. “Hold on.” He slides off the side of the bed and stands there, waiting for her to get out of bed. 

But she doesn’t get out of bed. She looks up at him, eyes searching his. She doesn’t move. 

“I need your help,” she says again. “I can’t–I mean, I still can’t move. My arms and my legs,” she says. “Not really. Not enough. They just aren’t working. Even if I could move to get out of bed, I know I couldn’t stand up.” 

Ian glances over at Clara, sleeping soundly, curled against Elizabeth’s side. Mickey’s arm is around her. They breathe deeply in unison. 

“I can’t,” Elizabeth says. “She can’t do it. She can’t hold me up. You know that. She’s not strong enough. She’d try. She’d want to try, but she can’t. Not like this.” She winces, manages to slide her arm along the mattress, just slightly, reaching out for him. “Help.” 

Ian looks over at the closed door. The bathroom is just outside it. He wonder if Laurel or the other female Alphas are still there. 

“Come on,” Elizabeth says, managing a little smile. “I don’t need them. I trust you more. You know the way I move. We won’t even need to talk about it. You’ll just move me. You don’t have to, like, _look_ at me. It doesn’t have to be weird unless you make it weird.” 

Ian nods. “Okay,” he says. 

“Don’t wake her up,” she whispers. Out loud this time. “She needs to sleep.” 

Ian reaches out for her. “Can you move over? Get Clara to ease off first?” 

“I’ll try,” she says. She moves a little bit, but he has to help her the rest of the way. 

He reaches down, sliding one hand under her back and the other under her knees. 

She chuckles weakly. “You’re gonna carry me out like a bride?” 

He grins.”C’mon, you’ve earned it.” 

He manages the door and opens it quietly. He can hear the soft clinking of dishes. He can smell Alpha all around him. He starts panting and feels his eyes pull a little. 

“Hey,” she whispers. She weakly slides a hand in his hair. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s just the marking and the others, remember? We’re okay. It’s just us. Focus on us. You and me. Just take a breath. They aren’t going to hurt me.” 

Ian nods. “Okay,” he says shakily. 

“Okay?” 

“Yeah,” he says. He takes a deep breath. 

The bathroom is small, but big enough for him to walk toward the toilet with her. 

“Look,” she says. “I don’t want to do this any more than you do. It’s embarrassing. But I don’t want to use this pan they gave me. I don’t want Clara and Mickey to see that. I need to move. Feel like a normal person.” She swallows heavily as he lets her down, but still supports her entire body against him. They are face to face. “I’m sorry,” she says. “This is weird. I just don’t trust anyone like I trust you. Another Alpha, I mean. I’m so sorry. I–”

“Stop,” Ian says. His arm tightens around her as he leans over to open the toilet lid. “You’d do the same for me. You know you would.” He stares into her eyes as she pulls at her knit pants, pulls them down. “This is who we are,” Ian says. He holds her gaze. “I’d do anything for you. You know that.” 

“Okay,” she says quietly. “Set me down on it. You can look away. I got it.” 

He eases her down, fixing his gaze on the wall so she feels like she has privacy. There’s a pause, but then she begins, a relieved sigh. He reaches down for paper and hands it to her. “Do you need help?” 

“No,” she says quietly, slowly taking the paper in her fingers. “No, I’m okay.” He glances down, sees her head bowed. She grips his arm tight with one hand. She’s trying to stand up. 

“Elizabeth, don’t,” he says. “Hold on, okay? I won’t look, I promise.” 

She doesn’t say anything, but her grip loosens. Ian pulls her up and leans her against him. “I’ve got it,” he says quietly. She twitches when he reaches down along her side. He looks into her eyes. “It’s okay,” he says. He finds the waistband of the soft pants and pulls up. He switches to the other side and pulls up again slowly until they settle back at her hips. 

He moves her toward the sink. Wets a towel and drags it over her hands.

“Ian,” she says, voice wavering. “Don’t tell anyone. Don’t tell them I needed you to do this for me.” 

“Look at me,” he says, and he supports her neck when she pulls her head back. Their eyes are close, their lips, their breath. Themselves, whispering like lovers do. “This is nothing to be ashamed of. Do you hear me? It’s not. You’re amazing, okay? I mean, you almost died! And you’re _not_ going to die now. You’re _not_. You’re going to get better. Needing help to the bathroom is nothing. It might be me someday, and I’ll need you to help. Pack, right?”

“Right,” she whispers. Her eyes rake over his. He breathes a little harder. She licks her lips. 

The urge is there, and it’s confusing. “Elizabeth,” he says. “Can I?” 

“Sure,” she breathes. 

It isn’t hungry. It isn’t chaste. It’s somewhere between the two. He holds her even closer. Her mouth is soft. There’s a feeling there that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. She pulls back the slightest bit, and his hand cups her face and pulls her closer again. Suddenly he feels her hand–not weak, but sure–press against the back of his head. 

Just as easily as it began, it breaks. When their eyes meet, they smile. Elizabeth breathes out a little laugh. “What was that?” 

Ian shakes his head. “You started it.” 

“I _what?_ ” Her smile is wide. “I can’t even move.” 

He chuckles. He looks at her face. “You look better,” he says. “You don’t look as pale.” 

“I’m pale to start with,” she says dismissively. Then a pause. Hopeful. “Do I? Are you sure?” 

“Seriously,” he says. He squints at her. “Even from before,” he says. “Like, when you woke me up. You look better.” 

“It’s the light,” she says dismissively. “Here,” she gestures. “I’m tired, get me back in bed.” 

He scoops her up again. “What if it was that thing like when we linked when you were at my house? When your Alpha needed me to hold the stuff that hurt? Like, what if our Alphas were trying to help us? Just now? Is that a thing?”

“Maybe,” she says. She sighs and puts her head on his shoulder as he enters the hall. “We’re just animals, after all. The Alphas have all this unwritten strength code in packs. Science doesn’t really understand what, so of course they're obsessed with it. There are so many medical papers are written about it. It’s all just theory. What we _do_ know is that packs rarely coexisted, but they didn’t fight to the death much either. We know that packs are very physical. When there are connected Alphas, they support each other physically. The tie between emotions and physicality is strong. But people don’t know what that means. But borrowing energies does appear to be a thing. Maybe that’s why I wanted you to kiss me.” 

“Oh, now you _wanted_ to kiss me.” 

“Shut up,” she laughs. 

Mickey opens the door. “You wanted to kiss who?” 

“We kissed in the bathroom,” he blurts out. 

“You _what_?” He doesn’t look angry, not really. Surprised. Eyes wide. He shakes his head. “How the hell did that happen?” 

Ian shakes his head. “Not like for real or anything. I mean, it happened, but-”

“He means it wasn't romantic,” Elizabeth says. We think it’s an Alpha thing. I needed help in the bathroom. I was really weak. He held me up. It just happened. We think it has to do with being pack. It’s weird Alpha stuff. Animals are strange.” 

“Yeah, but why?” Mickey says. ‘How would that help?” He gestures to them. “You gonna put her down?” 

Ian and Elizabeth look at each other. He eases her back down on the bed. Clara murmurs in her sleep and shifts and shifts until she finds her. She nuzzles her nose into Elizabeth’s armpit and wraps her arm around her chest. 

“It was weird,” Ian says.

“Hey! I’m not a bad kisser,” Elizabeth says. 

Ian rolls his eyes. “You know that’s not what I mean.” His hand reaches out and pushes at her gently. 

Mickey looks at the time. 7 a.m. “What now?” 

“I think you should go to school, Ian,” Elizabeth says.

“What!” Ian can’t help the little yelp of surprise. Clara stirs. 

“Shhh!” Elizabeth pulls her closer. “We need to make sure they don’t have any suspicions.” 

“I don’t even know where I am,” he says. 

“One of the others can take you,” she says. “Call Laurel in here. She’ll take you.” 

“Laurel with the nasty herbal teas?” 

“The very same.” 

Mickey crosses his arms, shifts uncomfortably. “What about me?” 

Elizabeth glances down at Clara. “I think you two should talk. Clara might not be a doctor, but she knows more about omegas and beta passing than anyone I know. Seriously, like not even Alpha hospitals know what she knows. Probably the same with the omega hospitals.” She smoothes Clara’s hair, and she stirs, but doesn't wake. She looks straight at Mickey, blue-grey eyes fixed hard. “Mickey,” she says with just enough Alpha to weight the air. “If you are going off your beta passing meds, you gotta be careful. You’ve probably been on them so long that you forget what it’s like to live openly as an omega. The beta meds dull the edges. It’s putting you in a super vulnerable position.” 

“I’m _fine_ ,” Mickey says sternly. “I got it under control.” 

Something happens with Elizabeth’s eyes. “Mickey,” she says. “I’m trying to keep you safe. You need to listen. You won't have passing privilege anymore. Everyone will know. That you're an omega. And they'll know you're gay. And they'll know you're with Ian. There would be no more pretending.”

“Said I got it,” Mickey says evenly. He slides his hand into Ian's. “I know.”

Elizabeth nods. She reaches over and traces over Clara’s eyebrows. “We need to stick together, now.” She slips her thumb down and glides across Clara’s lip. “The four of us.” 

Mickey gestures to the door. “What about all them out there? The fuck are they doin’?” 

Clara opens her eyes slowly. Her hands immediately reach for Elizabeth. 

“Good morning,” Elizabeth whispers. 

Clara sits up a bit and kisses her hard. Elizabeth manages to bring a hand up. Clara speeds it up immediately, a tiny noise in her throat. 

“Can people just stop fucking kissing for one second? I asked a question.” 

Clara breaks away with a laugh. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t really mean to.” 

“That’s more than okay,” Elizabeth says with a hum. She pulls her closer. “Mickey was just asking what’s going on with everybody out there,” she says. 

“Yeah,” Ian says. “And all that other stuff, too. Like in Minneapolis when Jo said that thing about The Resistance?” 

Elizabeth looks over. “Who’s Jo?” She says it with just enough self-consciousness that it can’t be hidden under the Alpha tone.

“We’ll talk about her,” Clara says carefully. “She was my roommate. She was helping with the Minneapolis chapter.” 

“Oh,” Elizabeth says. Light layer of jealousy. 

“Nevermind that,” Mickey says impatiently. “What’s going on?” 

“Okay,” Clara begins. “Okay. So there’s a group of us who are pursuing alternative treatments. There’s a movement to step outside what the government has deemed mandatory. A lot of us come from the medical and science fields who can work from inside. People like Elizabeth.” 

“And Adam,” Elizabeth says. “He’s part of it, too.” 

Clara nods. “The general idea is we want to move away from what is essentially abuse. We are forced to do exactly what the government asks of us without any regard to our free will. That's the big thing. We don't even _have_ free will anymore. Not Alphas and omegas, at least. Because of the sharp increase in beta births, our traits are being edged out of society. In essence, we are being destroyed. It’s eugenics, pure and simple.” 

“Fuck,” Mickey says. “Never thought about it like that.” 

Clara nods. “Not many people do. They’ve done such a spectacular job at brainwashing the entire world about this. People literally live in fear of themselves. From the very moment of Reveal, we are cornered into medicating ourselves and being forced to carry government documents. The government is free to pluck us out and put us wherever they want. Jail. The military. Strong Alphas, ones like Ian and Elizabeth, are more vulnerable to government manipulation and abuse.” 

“We’re worried,” Elizabeth says. “We’re worried for you, Ian. They might be planning to bring you into the military. Alphas don’t have the same path as strong betas in the military. They are weapons. It’s the one time science and medicine decide that Alpha suppressants are wrong. Instead, they over-stimulate Alphas. They get injections. They never sleep. They run and kill and fight and wound. The whole time, they grow more and more feral. But they aren’t Alphas anymore. They become something else. Alphas are not feral. Alphas are strong and beautiful and necessary. What they do to us in the military is rape. They rape us. They force us against our will with injected poisons and sleep deprivation and torture. There is sexual abuse as well, sometimes. Some strong Alphas try and fight back, or run AWOL. They are immediately killed. Every time. They want Alphas unhinged and sick and dangerous. And it’s not our fault. It’s theirs.” 

Ian can feel Mickey’s panic. He can almost smell it. He reaches out for his hand. “That’s not going to happen to me,” he says quickly. “I won’t let it.” He ignores the look Elizabeth and Clara are giving each other. “I’m not doing that. I’m not.” 

“You’re not going to that fucking school today,” Mickey says firmly. 

“He has to,” Elizabeth says gently. “It’s the only way to not raise any more suspicion.” 

“What about Mickey?” Ian asks. “He can come, too.” 

“Not with my neck like this I can’t!”

“Fuck you,” Ian says. “You look fucking gorgeous.” He feels his eyes pull. The possessive feeling sparks. 

Clara grins. 

“No,” Elizabeth says. “He doesn’t go often enough for anyone to care. He should stay here with us.” 

“We’ll have to move locations,” Clara says. “We’ll move tonight when it’s dark.” 

“Smart,” Elizabeth says. 

“I know where,” Clara says. She looks at Elizabeth. 

It takes a moment before she speaks. “Are you crazy?” 

“Hear me out,” she says. “They bought a place in Florida. A junky condo really far from the beach, but my mom is healthier there. They’re gone for at least another month.” 

“What about your dad’s work?” Elizabeth says, shaking her head. 

“He can work down there,” she says. “Still travels around, but he doesn’t come back here. If you ask me, I think they’re moving somewhere else pretty soon. He’s been in D.C. more and more. Maybe there. But they’re definitely not here.” 

Elizabeth takes a deep breath. 

“It’s _fine_ ,” Clara says. “Come on. Trust me.” 

“Okay,” Elizabeth says. “Okay.” 

There’s a knock at the door. It opens slowly. It’s Laurel with a bowl, a towel over her arm, and a steaming pitcher. 

“Can I come in?” 

“Yeah,” Elizabeth says. “Morning.” 

Laurel smiles and sets the bowl down. There isn’t any water in it, but It’s filled with herbs and slices of lemon, something minty and something spicy. 

Laurel glances at Ian and then at Mickey. “I was planning to bathe her,” she says quietly, soothingly. “Could we have some privacy?” 

“Actually,” Elizabeth says. “Ian is being sent to school today. He doesn’t know where he is. Are one of the guys here?” 

Laurel says something, and it’s that language again. Rounded and melodic. Elizabeth nods her head and replies in the same language. 

“No, Mickey’s staying here,” Clara says to Laurel. “It’s just him.” 

Laurel nods and says something else. Clara nods and Elizabeth sighs. 

“Okay,” Laurel says in English. “Ian, one of the nurses can bring you to school. Mickey, there’s food in the kitchen. She looks over at Clara. I’ll go get another cloth. You can get her undressed, I assume?” 

“Yes, please,” Clara says. 

Elizabeth smiles and slowly reaches out a hand to brush Clara’s cheek. 

“Boys,” she says with a weak laugh. “That’s your cue.” 

*

He’s late, but not too late. He’s thinking about Mickey when he opens the door. He’s thinking about how he mentioned Jo, and Elizabeth’s reaction. 

It’s hard for him to think about Mickey in a heat. He can’t think about it too long or his eyes pull and he feels full of adrenaline. He never wants to hear about. No. He wants to hear about it. No. Wait. Who was it? Does he know him? Did it happen here, right under his nose? Someone from school? A boy? A man? Probably not a woman. Mickey wouldn’t want one. Not in a heat. Fuck. Shit. He wants to know. He never wants to know. He sighs. Fuck. How many times has Mickey been in a heat without him? He talks like he’s been in it before. Maybe a few times. Damn it. No. His hands flex and release, flex and release. Clara only was in it once, right? So maybe Mickey was only once? But Clara and Elizabeth were together for over a year, right? She wasn’t in a heat then. 

How with Elizabeth respond about Jo? When will Clara tell her? He’s pretty sure soon. And he knows that Elizabeth will be hurt, but will understand. She won’t like it, but the fact that she’s back will probably make up for it. They’ll claim as soon as they can. He knows it. 

Okay. Okay, so he’ll talk with Elizabeth about it. Maybe she can help him. Help him not be a jealous mess. 

Nah. He’ll probably still be a jealous mess. 

It’s so tense he has to laugh. He’s almost up the stairs to the English department when he’s stopped by someone saying his name behind him. 

“Ian Gallagher.”

There’s something about the tone that makes him bristle. He feels his eyes pull. He flexes his hands again before he turns. 

It’s a dark-haired man in a suit. He’s tall and intimidating. Wide shoulders, and even in a suit Ian knows he’s muscular. He’s older, but young-looking, very handsome. His eyes are dark. Very dark. Dark enough that he isn’t sure if he’s pulling or not. 

“I am not challenging,” he says. “It’s just how dark my eyes are.” 

Ian nods slowly. 

The man gestures to his right. He smiles, but it’s overly wide and tight. His teeth slip. Do they slip out? Ian squints, but then the man turns. 

“Follow me,” he says sternly. Like a puppy, a little Alpha puppy, he follows. The man smells good, both with cologne and whatever Alpha is present on his skin. Ian finds himself being drawn in. Deep. He tries to shake himself off, shake that feeling off. It can’t be good. He knows it. 

They reach a small room beside the principal’s office. It’s cramped and bright. 

“Have a seat,” he says. 

Ian sits. The man does not. He stands against the wall. 

“Do you know why I’ve been looking for you, Mr. Gallagher?” 

He swallows. “No. No, I’ve never seen you before.” 

The man smiles wide again. “Yes. Yes you have, Mr. Gallagher. Were you or were you not looking out the window on the third floor on the day Jack Malecki was excused from this school?” 

The car. The black car, the men in suits. How he hit the floor, crouching, when they looked up. 

“Um,” he stammers. “Yes. I was. I was just curious.” 

“Curious about what, specifically?” 

“I’d heard about, um, The Institute? I thought maybe the guys I saw were part of that? I just didn’t know. I was confused. I don’t really get what The Institute is.” 

The man does not speak. He stands behind the chair, his hands finding the back, squeezing hard. He has a gold wedding ring. His nails are clean. His hands look strong but soft.

“Do you think that I am part of this so-called Institute, Mr. Gallagher?” 

His eyes are so strong Ian finds his head bowed. “I don’t know,” Ian says. “Like I said, I don’t really get what it is.” 

The man sits down. He’s close to Ian. Very close. Close enough Ian can see his teeth. Bright white against his olive skin. There’s something about him that feels familiar, and Ian doesn’t like that feeling. It’s confusing. He feels like he’s almost letting his guard down, and he knows he can’t. Not now. Not with him. 

He manages to look up again, slowly. The man stares at him. Then there’s a sharp pain in his temple. Then there’s that scraping feeling again. The one he felt at the doctor. The grits his teeth. 

“That won’t work,” he says firmly. “Getting in my head. Don’t even try. If you have something to ask me, just ask me.” 

The man’s hand slaps him so hard, so fast, that Ian never even saw it coming. He gasps. 

“Are you going to cooperate or not?” The man hisses. “Because we could do this a lot of different ways, Mr. Gallagher, and they’re not all as pretty as this.” 

Ian nods fast. Fuck. “Okay,” he says quickly. His cheek burns. 

The man breathes out. That strange smile again. “I’m going to ask you some questions. I’m going to give you some names. Tell me if you know these people. I will know if you are lying.” 

“Okay,” he says. He’s cowering. His hands are shaking. 

The man pulls a slip of paper from his breast pocket. “Let’s start with the easy ones. Adam Hinton, Laurel Sullivan, and Phoebe Riley.” 

Phoebe? No. “No,” he says. He tries to focus his brain on the name Phoebe. If the man tries to read him, maybe he’ll just read that part.

The man nods slowly. “Mickey Milkovich,” he says. “He’s your omega, is he not?” 

“Um,” Ian says. He stares at the man’s right hand. He imagines the slap. “Y-yes. Not officially, but he’s my boyfriend. Yes.” There’s just no use in lying. 

“Good. That was already confirmed before this conversation,” the man says. “You should be lucky that I even asked you. I could have brought him in until you admitted it. I figured you’d lie. Do you lie often, Mr. Gallagher?” 

He shakes his head and tries to breathe. 

“Elizabeth Pearl,” he says loudly. “She is pack. We know this. Pack does not go unnoticed, especially in this day and age.” 

His voice is not strong at all. “How did you know?” 

“When she got you from the clinic,” he says. “We observed her body language. Dr. Pearl is very smart, very strong, but she’s still human. And humans are flawed, aren’t they, Mr. Gallagher?” 

“Yes sir.”

“By the way, how is Dr. Pearl feeling these days? I heard she was a bit under the weather.” His mouth twists into something ugly. 

Ian breathes heavily. He’s trying so hard not to react. “She’s fine,” he says. “Just a flu bug.” 

The man chuckles and sits back, crossing his arms. “Glad to hear it,” he says. “That must be a great relief to you. Her getting well.” 

Ian nods. He doesn’t know what else to do. 

“One final question,” the man says brightly. “How well do you know Clara Ramirez?” 

Ian’s mouth drops slightly, but he doesn’t say anything. 

Smack. It comes fast. Just as fast. 

“I’ll ask you again,” the man says. “How well do you know Clara Ramirez?” 

“I don’t–” Ian says, shaky. “I don’t know her.”

Smack. 

“I’ll ask again. How well do you know Clara Ramirez?” 

Ian shakes his head. “I just met her. I don’t know.” 

“Listen here,” he says, voice low. “Don’t get mixed up with her. Are you aware she is part of a dangerous terrorist organization?”

Ian shakes his head. 

“Well, she is,” the man says. Too brightly. “She is not a hero. She is a renegade with a great deal of power. Power she has not earned. She must be stopped. And this is your warning. If you consort with said organization, you will be swiftly and painfully reprimanded. We have eyes everywhere. We will know.” 

He slides the paper back into his breast pocket and pulls out his pocket square. He rubs it between his palms, like he’s trying to erase the memory of Ian’s cheek. “And we’d hate for something to happen to Mickey Milkovich now, wouldn’t we?” 

Ian can’t help the pull in his eyes and the set of his jaw. 

The man laughs. “There we are,” he says. “I told them it was the easiest strategy for you. You are too young and inexperienced to hold your cards close.” He stands and opens the door. Steps outside. He gestures for him to get up. 

“It’s been a pleasure,” the man says. “I hope it’s not the last time we meet. I like you, Mr. Gallagher. There’s something special about you.” 

Ian’s eyes blur with tears as he looks down. When he raises his head again, the man is gone. 

Ian can’t run out of the school fast enough. 

He knows he’s never coming back. 

*

Ian doesn’t let go of Mickey arm the whole time the omega car service takes them across town to Clara’s house. 

The car wasn’t sure about driving them, but after Clara spoke with the driver privately, he let them in. 

“Cut the lights,” Elizabeth says as they turn a corner. 

The omega listens to her. Even weak, she’s still an Alpha. They slowly roll down the street, maybe six houses in, and they stop at the curb. 

Mickey tries to move his arm, but Ian grabs harder. 

“Hey,” Mickey says, passing up money. “Ian, it’s cool. Relax. She said we’d be safe here. Chill out.” 

They close the doors quietly, and the car creeps away. 

Clara’s key slides into the lock easily. There’s a beeping sound as soon as she opens the door. 

Mickey pauses. “Alarm? They got cameras? They gonna see it in Florida?” 

“No,” Clara says, but she whispers anyway. “My dad doesn't trust smartphones. Get in. Get in. Shut the door.” 

They all crowd in. She doesn’t turn on the lights. Clara bends past Mickey and fiddles with the keypad. It stops beeping.

But almost immediately, another alarm starts beeping. Louder this time. 

Elizabeth whispers harshly from Ian’s arms. “They got _another_ alarm?” 

“Yeah,” Clara says quietly. She walks down the hallway and Ian can’t see her anymore. He hears more beeping. It keeps beeping, starts beeping faster. Fuck. It’s one of those that goes off really loud if you don’t hurry. 

“Fuck,” Elizabeth hisses. “Fuck!” 

“We gotta get out again,” Mickey says. He pulls at Ian. Elizabeth slumps down a little more. “Fuck. This is one of those that locks the doors.” 

Elizabeth is panting hard. “How do you know?” 

Ian breathes deeply. “He’s kind of robbed some houses.” 

“Oh dear,” Elizabeth mumbles. She tries to call down the hall. “Baby, what’s wrong?” 

“It’s–” Clara calls out. “They might have changed it the passcode. Hold on.” 

Mickey yells down the hall. “Are you fucking serious?!” 

Elizabeth swings her hand away from Ian’s body. She wobbles a little. She punches him in the arm. “Shut up! Shhh!” 

It beeps even faster. 

“We gotta get out,” Mickey says. “Now.” He’s about to reach for the doorknob but Ian bats his hand away.

Silence. 

Beautiful silence. 

They all breathe a sigh of relief. 

Clara moves back down the hall. “Okay,” she says. “Take your shoes off. Let’s go upstairs.” 

Mickey pauses. “No food?” 

Elizabeth breathes through a weak laugh. “They’re gone for three months, remember? They don't have anything.”

Mickey grumbles under his breath. “They gotta have a can of spaghetti-o’s or somethin’.” 

Clara laughs quietly. “Not tonight,” she says. “We can’t let anyone know we’re here. Gotta keep the lights out. C’mon. This way. Mickey, follow me.” 

Mickey and Clara start talking at the top of the stairs. Ian can't hear what they're saying. Elizabeth nudges Ian the best she can. “I can crawl up the stairs,” she says. 

“You’re not heavy obviously,” Ian says. “No one’s too heavy for us, remember?” 

“I know,” she says quietly. “But I wanna be strong enough to touch her.” 

Ian smiles in the dark. “Yeah? Think that’ll help?” Maybe she has candles or something.” 

She laughs lightly. “God, I hope so. It would probably work better to see her, I really want to.” He can heat a pinch of sadness in her voice. “Ian, I want to make love with her. I have to. What if it's the last chance I have?”

“I know,” he says quietly. 

“Eh,” Mickey whispers from the landing. “What are you guys doin’?” 

Ian eases Elizabeth onto the stairs. “Nothing. We’re coming.” The carpet is thick. Soft enough. He stays behind her, just in case. She crawls slowly, but she does it.

Mickey and Clara stand at the top of the stairs. Elizabeth sits, Ian still spotting her, holding onto the railings. 

“So,” Clara says. 

“So,” Ian says. 

“Do you guys want to–I mean, you guys could maybe take my room?” 

Ian nods in the dark. “What about you guys?” 

“We could take my parents’ room. The bed’s bigger. It would be better for Elizabeth. Give her more room?”

They are all quiet. 

Elizabeth clears her throat. Her voice is stronger. “Do you have any candles, C?”

There’s a pause.“Yeah,” Clara says. “I can find some. Yeah.” 

“Good,” Elizabeth says. There’s a weight to the air. It’s soft. Weak. But it’s there. Alpha. “I want to see you when I touch you.” 

That’s it. It’s there. He can hear Clara’s intake of breath. “O-okay. Yeah. I’d like that. I’d really like that. I think there are some in the bathroom cabinet.” 

“Ian,” Elizabeth says. She reaches for his ankle. “Can you help me?” 

“Of course,” he says. “Clara? Which way’s–”

“Your left,” she says. “And then first door on the right. You guys will be over here,” she says, but Ian can't see. “Over there, Mickey. Let me grab the candle stuff. Ian, are you okay? Can you get her into bed?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

“Okay, I’ll figure out your room. I might have to get new sheets or something.” 

“Sure,” Ian says.

“Bathroom’s just behind me,” she says. “There’s probably a nightlight in the cupboard, too.” He can hear her shifting to the side, opening a cabinet door. A moment later, a tiny pale yellow light goes on. “There,” she says. “Nightlight. The shade is down. It’s a thick shade. We should be good.” 

“Good,” Ian says. He looks down at Elizabeth. She’s looking at her hands. 

“Okay, here’s the candle stuff. It’s on the sink.” 

“Got it,” Ian says. Ian ducks into the bathroom. There are three fat candles and a lighter. He lights one, just to get Elizabeth settled in the room. 

“C’mon, Mickey,” Clara says. “Follow me over here.” 

Ian crouches down on the stairs. “Can you make it?” 

“Yeah,” she whispers. “Yeah, I think so.” 

He spots her as she crawls. She sighs heavily when she reaches the bed. Ian sets the candle down and starts to lift her up. She starts to pull at her clothes, but breathes heavily and stops. “Ian,” she says. “Help.”

“Let her do it,” Ian says quietly. “You just rest.” He holds her close to steady her and reaches back. He pulls the duvet and sheets down. 

“Here,” he says. He eases her back onto the pillow. “You okay?” 

She slowly turns on her side. She nods. Then she squints at him. “Are you okay? What aren’t you telling me?” 

He sighs, and it links quickly without him saying a word. It pours out of him. But when he tries to show her the man's face, it keeps getting scrambled. His face is blank. Just skin. He shakes his head, trying to focus. 

"It's okay, just go ahead," she says quickly. "Just keep going." So he does. Her eyes widen. She pulls on his shirt a little, pulls him close to her face. Her hand comes up and gently touches his cheek. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. That must have been really scary.” 

He nods. “Why aren’t you more freaked? It seemed like they knew everything!” 

She pauses. “Well. Now, this will sound weird, but they can read us. Read us, but only so far. They can make all sorts of threats, and they can put cameras on us, but we know things about them that they don’t know. We have the upper hand. They just don’t know it yet.”

Ian opens and closes his mouth. “But this guy. There was something intense about him. It didn't feel like the other times I've been threatened. It was worse. There's something there. He could hurt us. I know he could.

Elizabeth pauses. “In a way, you're very right. They have the force. They have the power of weapons and training to kill. They have ways to kill us and rape us and wipe us off the planet if they want to. That's why we live in fear. That's why we run. But when it comes to us, right here, right now, they know they won’t do anything. Not unless they can get all of us at once. Everybody in The Resistance. And they want to know everything about The Resistance. And they never will if they take all of us down. They want to know what we know, so they want all of us. Everywhere. All over the world. And we don't snitch.”

“They said they’d hurt Mickey.”

“I know,” she says gently. “But we won’t let them. They can’t get him as long as we stick together and keep tight to The Resistance. Okay? Safety in numbers?”

“Promise?”

“I absolutely promise that's as long as I'm alive, Mickey will be safe. That's how pack works. He's as much my responsibility as he is yours. It's the same thing with you and Clara. Even if you don't feel it now, you will soon. You are connected tight to her. You will fight for her just like you do for Mickey. You just have to trust me. Okay?”

“I will. So you have to stay alive. I need you, okay?” He takes a deep breath. Okay. Okay, he can relax. She promised. Safe. For now.

“Okay,” she whispers. 

“Should I get her?”

She shakes her head. “Not. Not yet. I feel nervous.”

“Nervous how? Why?”

“When Laurel was bathing me this morning, and Clara was there, it was really intense. The way she looked at me, the light in her eyes. I felt her eyes on every single inch of me. I could feel her breath on my skin even. It's like my skin was looking for her breath. And I wanted nothing more than to shove Laurel out of the room, lock the door, and pull Clara's clothes off. But I couldn't. I could hardly raise my head when she was going to wash my hair. How am I supposed to do this? Now?”

“Elizabeth-”

“I just really want to touch her. Touch her everywhere,” she says quietly. “And I know I won’t be able to do it like we usually–I mean, I know it’s gonna be different. I wish I were stronger. I mean, it would be so much better for her if I was stronger. I’m her Alpha. I should be able to give her whatever she wants. Do whatever she wants. I need to. She deserves it. It's what I'm supposed to do.” her voice tightens. 

“Hey hey hey,” Ian says. He sits next to her on the bed. “Look. Look at me, okay?” 

She looks over. Sighs. Her gaze falters. 

“She wants _you_ ,” Ian says quietly. “You know that, right? It’s not like she only wants you because you’re an Alpha. Right? She loves you.” He swallows hard. “She loves you because you're _you._ ”

“Okay,” she says quietly. 

“So just let her help you,” Ian says. “She wants to be with you. It might be different, but you’ll figure it out. Right? You can still, you know, be together even if you’re not as strong as you usually are.” 

She nods. “Ian, what if it’s the last time? The last chance to make love? The only chance? What if this doesn’t work? Being with her like this? What if I don’t get better? What if we can never–” she breathes out, so shaky. Bond. Claiming. “What if I can’t be with her forever?” 

“Don’t talk like that,” Ian says. He rubs at her leg. “Just relax. Tomorrow is tomorrow. You’re together tonight. That’s what matters right now. And she loves you. And you’re going to be in the same bed, and you’ll wake up tomorrow and she’ll still be there. We set the alarms. I’m right across the hall. Okay?” 

“But in the morning,” she says. Ian sees the worry in her eyes. “What happens in the morning?” 

He shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says. “You guys can stay in bed? Mickey and I can find spaghetti-o’s or…” 

She laughs lightly. “Spaghetti-o’s. That boy of yours, I swear.” 

He pats her leg before he lets go. “You really snuck in here? And you never got caught? The upstairs is tiny. How did they not hear you?” 

Her eyes close. “Ha. Lots of practice.” 

“So you’re used to being quiet when you have sex, or?” 

She swats at him, smiling weakly. “Shut up.” 

It’s quiet. Her eyes are still closed. 

“You really think she’d still...like it? If I’m too weak and can’t, you know, do it exactly like before? What if it’s not enough for her? What if she can’t come? Or can’t come as hard as she does when I –” 

“Elizabeth, look,” Ian says, “She loves you. Tell your Alpha to relax already. You know how we just want to take care of them? Just remind yourself about that, okay? Let her take care of you. She wants to take care of you. You don’t have to be in charge all the time.” 

She closes her eyes, groans, frustration, an exaggerated grumble. “I like being in charge.” 

Ian laughs.

“Okay,” she says. “I believe you. I will. We can. I’m ready. I need her.” She opens her eyes slowly. It’s dark. Her eyes are dilated. Of course they are, because of the low lighting. But he can tell it’s more. Response. “Can you–can you get the other candles?” She breathes out slowly. 

“Sure,” he says. “Be right back. 

He literally bumps into Clara in the hallway. He can see bright light under the door to her room. His eyes widen. “I thought we couldn’t–” 

“Two sets of blackout curtains,” she says. “I put them on so she could sneak in. And we used to use this big heavy roll thing to put in front of the door. I promise no one can see in from outside. You’ll be okay. I had to make up the bed. Mickey’ll shut it off in a minute.” 

Between the nightlight and the light from the door, he can see her pretty well. He looks down at her hands. 

She pauses. She’s holding two candles and a small bag with a drawstring, and what looks like a folded belt. It takes him a moment before he realizes it’s probably a strap on. 

“Oh,” she says self-consciously. She fumbles her hands and lets the two fat candles cover the rest. “This. Um. I didn’t really know what she’d want. Sometimes we use it. So, um.” She huffs a nervous laugh. “God, this is embarrassing.” 

Ian nods. “I understand. Nothing to be embarrassed about.” 

She clears her throat a little. “Are you cool if we use all the candles? I kinda really want to...see her. You know. While we.” 

Ian nods. He can see her eyes brighten, just a little. “Yeah,” he says. “That’s fine.” 

She pauses again. “Do you think she’ll really be able to?” She shifts her feet and lowers her voice. “Have sex, I mean. I can tell she wants to. I can feel it.” 

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, she does.” 

She nods. “And I want to. Definitely. I want it bad. I want her. So much. But I don’t want her to get worse. I don’t want to hurt her. I’m worried I could hurt her.”

He shakes his head. No. “I don’t think that’s even possible,” he says. He gives her a little smile. “I think if anything it could, you know, help? I mean, yeah she’s weak right now. Physically. But it doesn’t mean you can’t. It would just be different, maybe. That’s all.” He opens and closes his mouth. He can feel Elizabeth, just barely. “She just wants to be enough. Wants to please you.” 

She nods. The tiniest smile. “When I'm with her, I’m easy to please,” she says softly, a tiny laugh. 

He can see a tiny glimmer again. 

“Go ahead,” he says. “She’s waiting.” 

She nods. “He’s waiting, too.” She breathes a shaky breath and leans into his chest. She breathes deeply, and he puts an arm around her. ““Thank you,” she whispers. “I can’t ever thank you enough. I can’t.” 

“It’s okay,” he says. “You don’t have to.” He gives her a squeeze and a quick kiss on the head before he lets go. “G’night.” 

“Night.” 

They close their doors. 

Mickey is undressed already, inside the covers, lying on his stomach, eyes closed. 

“Hey,” Ian whispers. “You awake?” 

“I am now,” he mumbles into the pillow. 

Ian unbuckles his jeans and takes his shirt off. He can see some coins fall out of his pants pocket when he tosses them on the floor. He shuts the overhead light off. There’s still a little bed table lamp on. 

“Move over,” he says to Mickey. 

Mickey jiggles the bed when he scoots over. “This bed is tiny,” he says. 

“She’s a tiny omega,” he says. “A twin bed makes sense.” 

“Still,” Mickey grumbles. He rolls on his back. 

“Shhh,” Ian says. “Bedtime.” 

He reaches over to shut the light off. Click. 

Darkness. But not darkness. 

“Woah,” Mickey says. “How long did it take her to put all these on?” 

Ian shakes his head, smiling. “A long, long time.” 

They are just stickers. Just glow in the dark stickers, and they won’t even last that long, but they are beautiful. Debbie put some on her ceiling when she was younger. But not this many. They are everywhere. Stars. Constellations upon constellations of glow in the dark star stickers.

“I like em,” Mickey says. “Is that gay?” 

“Not as gay as wanting a man to fuck you in the ass, but maybe a little bit.” 

“Fuck you,” he laughs. 

“Okay,” Ian says. He rolls over on top of Mickey. “Open your legs wider.” Mickey opens his legs for him to slip in between them.

“Well, hi,” Mickey says. 

“Hi,” Ian breathes. He kisses him, slow and soft. He hums when Mickey’s hand finds his face. He tips to the side and kisses his palm. 

“What are you startin’?”

“Whatever you want.” 

Mickey laughs. “I’m thinkin’ a little bit of nipple pinchin’. Then some ass eatin’–” 

“Seriously,” Ian says. 

“All right! Hey, go straight to fuckin. That’s fine.” 

Ian kisses him hard. “Nah, not straight to fucking. I'll do the other stuff. Gladly,”

“Good,” Mickey says. He kisses him again. “Get to it.”

Ian chuckles. He pulls up a leg and smacks his thigh. “So bossy.”

“You're one to talk.”

Ian looks down at him. He's so beautiful. He doesn't have to see him to know that. 

“Hey,” Ian says. “Do you know that Elizabeth and Clara always call sex ‘making love’?”

“No I didn't know,” Mickey says. “How would I know that? Cause of how Clara was at the apartment? I didn’t know she meant...that.”

“It's just,” Ian says carefully. “We always say we’re fucking. I don't know. Making love is kind of...nice. Romantic or something.”

There's a huge pause. “I am _not_ calling it that,” Mickey says. 

“I know,” Ian says gently. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just...it sounds different.” 

Mickey’s voice is careful and quiet. “I don't mean ‘fucking’ like in a mean way or something. It's just what I call it.”

“Okay.”

“What,” Mickey says lightly. “Is that okay? Or did you really wanna call it-”

“No,” Ian says. “It's fine. I was just thinking about it.”

“We gonna talk about it or do it?”

“Oh we’re gonna do it all right,” Ian says, voice low. Mickey laughs as Ian gets lower. He hooks his legs over his shoulders and Ian’s fingers find his nipples, softer, then harder. 

He finds him in the dark. He licks at him softly, slowly. Mickey sighs, and his sighs turn to moans, and across the hall Ian hears Elizabeth cry out, her voice saying “Oh god, like that. Just like that. Right there. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

*

Ian opens his eyes to find Mickey crawling on top of him. The room is still pitch dark, but he feels completely awake. 

He hums and glides his hands over Mickey’s arms. “What time is it?” He pulls him down, closer to his face.

“Almost eight-thirty,” Mickey says. He meets Ian’s mouth. A small kiss. “The curtains are blockin the sun.”

Ian’s voice rumbles. His hands slide up Mickey’s thighs and squeeze before they slide over his ass. “Love this ass.” 

Mickey’s breath catches. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Ian says. “Get it wet so I can fuck you.” 

Mickey bats at his chest with one hand. “What, I turn on a faucet or something?” 

Ian laughs. “You need help? You can’t get wet on cue?” 

Mickey tries to pull at him, tries to flip him over, but Ian doesn’t move. 

“Wanna see you,” Ian murmurs. 

“I don’t know if I can open the curtain.” 

“Turn the light on then. The table lamp. Wanna watch your body. Watch your face. Wanna see you while I fuck you.” 

Mickey leans over, but can’t reach. “Hang on. Let me go so I can get it.” 

Ian hesitates, but lets go. Immediately his hands start trembling, He needs him. His hands need him. They feel empty without him. It's a strange feeling. One he hasn't quite felt before. His hands _hurt_ without him. 

The light clicks on, and Mickey is there, about to climb back on top of him. His hair is mussed up and he squints in the light. Ian stops him from swinging his leg over and settling back on top. His hands, his fingers, spread wide and pull him onto his back. There. That’s better. He feels himself relax the longer he touches him. Ian rolls on top of him. 

“Hey,” Mickey says. 

“Hi,” Ian murmurs. His head drops and he nuzzles against Mickey’s cheek. Mickey turns almost immediately, presenting his neck, panting. “That’s it,” Ian says approvingly. “That’s good. Thank you, omega.” 

Mickey’s breath shakes. “Yeah.” 

His skin tastes perfect. 

“Always do this for me,” Ian says firmly. “I always need you to present your neck to me.”

“Yes, Alpha,” Mickey pants. “I will.”

Ian drags his teeth against his neck before pulling back. “Every time,” he says quietly. “I need to taste your neck every time,” he says.”If I can’t taste you, I don’t feel like you’re.” He pauses. Swallows. His voice shakes. “If I can’t taste you, I don’t feel like you’re mine.” 

“I am,” Mickey pants, pulling at Ian’s head, pulling his head closer. “I’m yours, Ian. Alpha. Alpha, _fuck._.” 

Ian growls against his skin. His hands clench and unclench. “Mine.” He growls louder. “ _Mine._ ” 

Mickey cries out. “Bite,” he says. “Bite hard.” 

Ian doesn’t wait. He doesn’t wait or hesitate. He bites. Hard. 

“Harder,” Mickey gasps. “Claim me. Do it. Do it now.” 

Ian feels an ache in his teeth. He feels Mickey’s pulse, he feels the slightest give of Mickey’s skin. 

“Yes,” Mickey moans. “Do it. Fucking do it do it do it do it.” 

Ian can’t move his head. Mickey’s hand is pressing him down. His heartbeat quickens. Ian can hear it. His upper jaw aches, feels like it’s widening. He feels like his teeth are shifting. Like he’s really going to do it. Like his body is starting, responding, galloping toward Mickey’s pulse and skin, hungry. 

Fuck. Fuck. It’s all he can do to pull back, shaking Mickey’s hands off his head. 

“Mick, holy shit holy shit.” 

Mickey’s eyes are wide as he nods. Nods faster. “I’m sorry,” Mickey says. “I just couldn’t stop. Fuck, I want it so bad. Don’t wanna wait.” 

Ian licks his lips. They feel strange. “I know,” he says. He feels like he’s mumbling, like he can’t push the words out. “I know,” he says again. “Fuck, I want to do it. Every time I do it, I feel like I’m gonna. It’s just getting closer and closer and I almost can’t stop.” 

“I don’t want you to stop.” 

“I know,” Ian says. “But we have to. We’re not ready.” 

“I’m ready,” Mickey says sternly. “I thought we talked about it already.” 

“I know.” Ian whispers, breath shaky. “Mickey, we will. When it’s safer, maybe your meds, you know. If you stop taking the beta supplements, maybe then you could like…” 

“Go in a heat?” Mickey breathes. “Thought you said you didn’t want me to go off meds.” 

Ian pauses. He’s right. He did say that. “I don’t mean all of them. Just the blockers, maybe? Whatever you’re taking to pass as a beta?” 

“Can you tell?” 

Ian frowns. “Tell what?” 

Mickey smooths his hand against Ian’s head, fingers rubbing against his hair. “That I went off ‘em. The beta shit.” 

Ian’s eyes widen. “You have? Since when?” 

“Week, I guess,” he says. “Forgot to bring my omega pills to Minneapolis, too. Forgot all of it.” 

“Wait,” Ian says. He swallows. Fuck, Mickey smells good. That’s it. That’s partly why. Why his Alpha wants to so badly. “You aren’t on _anything?_ ” 

“I forgot,” Mickey says, but he doesn’t meet Ian’s eyes. 

Ian shakes his head. He didn’t forget. He knows it. He can feel it. “Mick,” he says carefully, but he doesn’t say anything else. 

“It’s not like it will happen right away,” Mickey says. “We got time. It won’t start until my body’s ready. Look, you gotta trust me.” 

Ian pants hard. His eyes pull. “I don’t think I can bite you anymore.” 

Mickey shakes his head. “No. I need you to. If you can’t claim me, you gotta bite me. Bite me hard. Feel safer when you bite me.” 

“What do you mean safer?” His mouth aches. 

Mickey swallows. His eyes go to Ian’s mouth. “Like you want me,” he says quietly. “Like you want only me.” 

Fuck. Ian leans back and begins to pet him, whispering soothingly. “I want only you,” he says. “I want you every minute. Every single minute. You’re it, Mickey. You have to be. I can’t even think about anyone else without feeling sick.” 

“Me too,” Mickey says. “Feel like that too. You’re under my skin, man. What the fuck can I do?” 

“You can kiss me,” Ian says, so Mickey does. Ian loves his mouth, his tongue. Ian breaks away with a sigh. “Can I worship you?” 

Mickey squints. Ian bites his lip. He didn’t mean to say it. He doesn’t know where it came from. But there’s a gentle relief that eases his nerves when he says it. 

“What does that mean?” Mickey whispers. But there’s a sudden shudder. Ian can tell that his omega knows exactly what it means. The rest of Mickey just needs to catch up.

Ian shakes his head slowly. “I want to do it. Need to.” 

“What are you going to do?” 

Ian can still feel the ache in his jaw, his strange mouth. “I’m going to show you how much I love you. How pleased my Alpha is to be with you.” He pauses at the words _my Alpha._ “I want to show you how much _I_ am pleased to be with you. I'm going to touch you everywhere. Feel every inch of your perfect fucking body..” He swallows. A pause. “Mick, is my face weird right now?” 

Mickey’s hand finds Ian’s cheek, and his thumb glides over Ian’s lip. “Your mouth,” he says gently. “Your teeth look longer. Your lips are stretched a little wider.” 

Ian cringes, just a little. He starts to pull away. 

“No,” Mickey says gently, pulling him closer by his ass. Pressing Ian against him. “No, I like it. You look good. Really fucking good.”

Ian voice is hesitant, but full of wonder. “Really?” 

Mickey give a little affirmative hum. “And you’re gonna look like this when you claim me,” he says quietly. “When you bite my neck until you break the skin. Break it so hard you mark me. When your tongue licks over the bite, when you heal me up. When I’m really yours. For good.” 

Ian paws at him. He’s breathing hard, the slightest growl. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Mickey says. “And then, after that, you’re gonna open me up again when I want you to. When I want you to reinforce it. The bond. Always wanna be reminded that you fucking want me. That I belong to you.” 

Ian moans. His teeth ache in such a perfect way. “Present,” he growls. 

Mickey throws his head to the side, and Ian is biting, biting, biting. Mickey moans so loud, so hard, and far away Ian remembers that Elizabeth and Clara are across the hall, but he doesn’t give a fuck. Let them hear. Let them hear how much Mickey wants him. How much he wants Mickey. How Ian’s body is holding him down tight, teeth in his neck. 

“Gonna happen!” Mickey is shaking everywhere. “Oh god, Ian. Yes.” 

Mickey’s heartbeat rattles his teeth. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. It’s a chant in time to Mickey’s heartbeat. 

Ian pulls away, gasping for air like he’s drowning. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. 

Mickey’s hand on his face startles him. “Hey,” Mickey says. “Hey, Ian. Ian, look at me. Look.” 

Ian can hardly focus. He feels tears in his eyes, like they are trying to clean something out. His eyes, his pulled eyes. He can feel them, and he knows they are wider than they’ve ever been. They hurt.

“Ian,” Mickey says firmly. “Look at me. I’m okay. We’re okay.” 

Ian breathing slows, finally. When he looks at Mickey’s neck, he swallows hard. There are deep indentations from his teeth. One has what looks like a tiny tear. It’s very bruised. “Oh my god,” he breathes. 

“Kiss me,” Mickey says. “It’s okay. Promise.” 

His lips are soft, and his tongue is softer still. Something rises. Something cleaner, his mind clearing. Worship, he thinks. He needs to worship Mickey’s body. Worship Mickey. 

Ian’s lips pull back. “You’re so beautiful,” he says. “Omega. Such a beautiful omega.” 

Mickey shakes. “Yeah?” 

Ian kisses Mickey’s cheeks, his temple, his eyelids when he closes them. He slides down, careful to keep away from his neck. Mickey’s chest is wide. He loves it. He kisses and licks at Mickey’s collarbone, his fingertips tracing his shoulders lightly. Mickey shivers. Ian’s tongue slides across a nipple and flicks it with his tongue before sucking harder. Mickey gasps. Ian lets his teeth glide across. 

When he works his way down, he lets his fingers pinch his nipples and gently pull. Mickey lets out a long moan. 

“You smell so perfect,” Ian whispers. He nuzzles into the pale hair on Mickey's stomach. He's glad they kept clothes off when they slept last night, because Mickey’s hard dick is waiting right there for him, rubbing against his neck as he kisses and softly nibbles at Mickey’s hips. He slides his hand around his hip and squeezes as much of Mickey’s ass as he can. “Your body is so perfect, Mick. Skin so soft. You taste so good. I can smell your cock, Mick. I'm gonna suck it if you let me. Can I do that?”

“Oh god,” Mickey breathes. “Yeah. Yes.” 

“Thank you, omega.” Ian head feels like he's burning. “Thank you for letting me worship you like this. Thank you for trusting me. I want to give you all the pleasure you deserve.” The words come without any planning. Automatic, almost, but he means every word.

“Feels so fucking good,” Mickey whispers. 

Ian backs off Mickey’s hips. His fingertips slide toward his inner thighs, but when Mickey’s legs open wider and he raises his hips, presenting his dick, Ian whispers “shhh” into his thigh and he begins to kiss him there. Kiss him fully, slowly. His hands are trembling. His brain is spiraling over something he can’t quite touch. Everything around him is Mickey, Mickey, Mickey. His fingernails slide up his thighs softly as he kisses his kneecap. Mickey huffs a little laugh, but it turns into a shaking breath as Ian’s hands slide up between his legs again. Ian’s fingertips brush against the inside of his pelvis, almost touching his dick, but not quite. 

“I love your body,” Ian says, voice shaky. His lips travel down Mickey’s shin until he hits Mickey’s ankle, the top of his foot. “Every single part of your body, omega. You deserve all of this. All of this worship, and more.” His hand cradles his foot, and he moves down until his forehead rests on the top of Mickey’s foot. He lingers there. He doesn’t touch his toes, just holds the underside of his foot, the arch. “I’m yours, Mick.” He gives his foot a full, soft kiss. He looks up at Mickey. He’s breathing hard, eyes hooded. “Yours.”

“Please,” Mickey whimpers. 

Ian gives one more kiss. Small. 

“Please what?” Ian whispers. 

Mickey swallows, closing his eyes. He shakes his head. 

“Mick, please what?” 

Mickey nods fast. “Please suck my cock. Please.” 

Ian groans. “You know why I’m gonna suck your cock, Mickey? Why I want to?” 

“Um,” Mickey says. “Alpha. Can’t think straight. Feels too good.” 

Ian’s voice rumbles, and his fingers tighten on Mickey’s hips. “I’m gonna suck your cock because your cock needs to be worshiped. Your beautiful cock, omega. Your Alpha wants to worship your beautiful omega cock. Swallow every part of you.” 

The more Ian moves, the more he touches him, the firmer the words feel in his mouth. This is overwhelming. He doesn’t know if it’s because they said I love you, or if it is the deeper part of Mickey breaking through the beta meds, or even the lapse in his omega suppressants. 

He loves it. 

The bed begins to creak. Ian slides his nose up the underside of Mickey’s dick. He breathes in deeply. He hums as he gives a fat lick to the underside. He slides the head into his mouth.

If Mickey is breathing, Ian isn't able to tell. He tastes absolutely incredible. He smells like earth, like salt. He smells like _his_. He pulls him deeper into his mouth, all the way into his throat. 

“Oh godddd,” Mickey moans. So loud. So hard. “Oh _fuck_.” 

Ian keeps moving his head, licking when he can, squeezing him in his throat. Suddenly he pulls back, letting his dick drop for a tiny second before his hand takes over. He leans up and crashes his lips against Mickey’s. Immediately, Mickey’s body tenses, and he comes fast, almost biting Ian’s lips. He pulls away to pant hard. “Oh my god, Ian. Can’t believe I just–fuck, that happened so fast. Why’d that happen so fast.” 

“I don’t know,” Ian says. “But did it feel good?” 

“Fuck yeah,” Mickey says. He lies boneless on the bed. There’s a box of tissues on the nightstand, and Ian takes a few to wipe his hand. “Fuck that was good.” 

Ian looks at the tissue in his hand. Disappointed. “I couldn’t–I mean, you let go too fast for me to put you back in my mouth. I’m sorry. I wasted it. Shit.” He starts opening the tissue frantically, Mickey’s hand grabs his wrist, stopping him. 

“No,” he pants. “Don’t have to do that. It’s okay.” 

Ian shakes his head. He glances down. “I can get the rest at least.” 

Mickey chuckles. “Why dontcha eat me while you’re at it.” 

Ian raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? Can I? I was just about to ask.” 

Mickey’s eyes widen. Brighten. “You _never_ have to ask me about that.” 

Ian laughs lightly before kissing him. He could kiss him for hours, days, weeks, years. Mickey brings his hand up, touches his face. Mickey likes to do that, Ian’s noticed. He likes to lightly slide his hand down Ian’s face and let it settle near his collarbone. Gently. He’s so gentle. Fuck. 

The warmth is still bubbling beneath Ian’s skin. “Are you too...like, are you too sensitive for me to keep going?” 

Mickey shakes his head. “Just not too fast,” he says. 

He’s careful when he reaches Mickey’s dick. He doesn’t move hard or fast. There isn’t a lot left, but enough that his Alpha is sated.

Ian hums in relief. “Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you, Mick. Omega.” 

Mickey’s thighs shake. 

“Turn over.” 

Mickey does right away. His back is warm and slightly damp. Ian straddles his thighs as his hands knead into his shoulders. He slides his hard cock against Mickey’s ass slowly. Mickey groans into the pillow. 

“Sore?” Ian’s thumbs slide against his muscles. 

“Yeah,” Mickey says. 

“Have to loosen you up, then,” Ian says.

“Heh.” 

“I’m not done with you,” Ian says quietly. Gently. “There’s so much of you left to touch.”

Mickey shudders. “How come you doin’ all this?” 

Ian’s hands slide down, just below his shoulders, and keep rubbing his sore muscles. “Because you deserve it,” he says. “Because you’re my omega and you need to be cared for.” His throat catches when he realizes that now he’s just freely calling Mickey his, freely implying that he is Mickey’s. Official claiming aside. It’s true. 

Mickey squirms beneath him, and Ian lifts off a bit. Mickey turns over to face him again. But his eyes are closed, breath fast.

“Open your eyes,” Ian says, and Mickey does. “I will always worship you,” he whispers. Are there tears in his eyes? There are. “Mick, I will always take care of you. I will give you anything you want. Whatever you tell me to do for you. I’ll do it. And I will always worship this body. Your beautiful, perfect body, omega. Every part of you. And I'll keep you safe. Always.” 

Mickey is panting under his hands. He starts to raise his hips, just slightly, and his shining, bitten lip. He makes a needy sound. “Say it again.”

“I will always worship you. I will always take care of you,” Ian gasps. “And I'll keep you safe. Because you're my omega. I love you. And you're mine.”

Ian’s hand races down one of Mickey’s arms. He laces his fingers in Mickey’s as he brings his lips into his neck. Careful. Careful. His gives thick kisses, nothing more, but Mickey gasps anyway. 

“You okay?” Ian asks, squeezing his fingers. 

“Oh yeah,” Mickey pants. “Yeah. Lemme turn over.”

Ian eases off him enough, and almost immediately he pulls Mickey’s hips up hard. He grabs at a pillow and slides it under him. “Here,” Ian says. “You’re gonna need somewhere to rest. Gonna rim you so good.” 

Mickey groans. “Always do. Fuck.” 

“Yeah,” Ian mumbles, kissing slowly down his spine. “Love to get you so shaky and wet you gotta press back on me. Press back on my mouth like you can’t get enough. I bet you’re wet now, aren’t you omega?” 

“Yeah,” Mickey whimpers. “Yeah, so wet for you, Alpha.” 

He is. Ian closes his eyes. Fuck, he always tastes perfect. His Alpha growls as he opens him, slowly–so slowly–always slowly, just like this. His fingers slide up one of Mickey’s cheeks as Mickey pushes back on him. He scratches his fingernails lightly, grabbing his hip and squeezing. He moans against him. More. More. Deeper. More. 

His jaw is strong, and isn't tired. He slides a finger in, and it goes in so smoothly. He presses into Mickey as his mouth works. Mickey shakes and more lubrication appears. Ian pulls his face away, panting. “Fuck,” he says, pressing another finger into him. He fucks them in and out. “You’re so fucking wet. Turn over.” He swipes his forearm against his wet mouth and pulls his fingers out carefully. “Turn over turn over turn over.” 

Mickey does, and immediately reaches for him. Ian’s arms bracket his head and he kisses him hard. Mickey is shaking everywhere. 

“So intense,” he pushes out. “Ian. Alpha.” He opens his eyes, bright and watering. “My whole body is hot.” 

Ian nods. “I can feel it,” he says. “You okay?” 

Mickey nods fast. “Almost feels like a heat’s comin’.” 

Ian feels like the air got sucked out of him. “What?” 

Mickey cries out, eyes closed. “I don’t know,” he says. “Kinda feels like when a heat starts comin.” 

Ian growls. Loud. Very loud. He feels like the walls are shaking around them. He feels the stretch in his lips again. 

“Fuck me,” Mickey says. “Please. Get inside me. I’m dyin.” 

Ian’s response is immediate. He slides in without hesitation, and when Mickey’s body bends up with a moan, he growls again. Mickey is wet and perfect. His skin burns. Ian can’t stop touching his skin. Everywhere. Fingers sliding against his chest, up his chin, fingers inside Mickey’s mouth. He sucks them as Ian begins to thrust harder. 

“Love this ass,” Ian grunts. “Love how perfect you are for me. How much you love my cock. How hard you wanna take it. How you open up wide for me. You're such a good omega. So perfect. Such a good boy. My good, good boy.”

Mickey sucks at his fingers harder. His eyes are bright, so bright. 

Ian pulls his fingers from Mickey’s mouth and starts pounding into him harder. He growls. “You like this?” 

MIckey nods his head fast. “Fuck yeah.” 

“How do you want me?” 

Mickey’s voice is tight. “Hold me down. Hold me really hard. Make me feel…” 

“Safe?” 

Mickey clenches around him. “Yeah. That. And keep talkin’ to me.” 

Ian has a rumble in his chest. He slows to a stop. 

“No,” Mickey says. “Don’t stop.” 

“Be patient,” Ian says. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll make you come so hard. I promise.” 

Mickey’s eyes are hooded, and he licks his lip. Bites it. He nods. Nods harder.

“Spread your legs open more. Get ‘em wide for your Alpha.” He doesn’t wait for him to do it. He reaches down and pushes them up and out. Mickey’s eyes are bright. Ian’s hands slide up and he pinches Mickey’s nipples hard as he grinds into him, but doesn't thrust. Not yet. He starts to loosen his fingers, but when Mickey begins to breathe out, he tightens again. 

“Oh god oh god oh god,” Mickey chants. “Oh, fuck.” 

Ian lets go. His hands grab at Mickey’s arms and he pulls them up, hands against the pillow, his long fingers wrap around his wrists. “How does this feel?” Mickey nods. “Yeah? You ready for me?” 

Mickey has tears in his eyes. Tears? 

“Are you okay?” Ian whispers. “Mickey, is this too much?” 

He shakes his head. “Keep going,” he says. “It’s just. It just feels really fucking good. Feels like a lot. That’s all.” 

Ian’s fingers slide up to Mickey’s hands. They interlace their fingers there on the pillow. “Are you ready?” 

Mickey nods. He opens and closes his mouth. “I love you. I trust you.” 

There’s a burning in his brain. “Omega. Mickey. I love you, Mickey.” He bends to kiss him softly as he begins to thrust again. Slowly, so slowly. He breaks the kiss. “I’m going to show you how much I love you. Show you with my body. I’m going to love your body with mine.” 

“Yeah, love me. Make,” Mickey whispers, swallowing. _Love? Make love? Is he trying to say it?_ His eyes flash bright, but he doesn’t say anything else. 

It’s perfect. Mickey’s skin is hot and Ian’s fingers tighten as he pushes into him, thrusts inside him over and over, sort of slow, but very hard, both of them panting when Ian’s cheek meets Mickey’s. He whispers little things into his ear, everything that comes to him, praising Mickey, Mickey’s omega. Telling him how pleased he is. Naming all the parts of Mickey’s body, every inch he loves, repeating words like prayers.

When they come, it’s in unison, And both of them gasp and shudder together, too. Mickey’s skin burns hotter and then breaks, like a fever.

“Shit,” Ian says, like he’s waking up. “I didn’t ask if I could knot. I’m sorry.” 

Mickey breathes a laugh with his eyes shut. “You _always_ gotta knot me. You better.” 

Ian presses a little harder into him as he comes again. Not as drawn out, but strong just the same. 

“Fuck,” Mickey says. “Love to get all filled up. Shit.” 

Ian hums and nuzzles into Mickey’s neck. He turns to present. Ian pauses before shielding his teeth and kissing and licking at him softly, his nose exploring his deep scent. His knot starts to go down, and he carefully slips out of Mickey’s body. 

“I’ll get water,” he says. “I’ll be right back.” He starts to get up, but Mickey pulls him back. 

“It’s cool,” he says. “I gotta get in the shower.” 

Ian smiles and kisses him quickly. “Okay,” he says. “You sure you’re okay? You don’t need anything?” 

Mickey smiles. “I’m good. Promise. C’mon. After you get out you can see how the girls are doin’. They gotta be wiped out from all their fuckin’ last night. Jesus Christ. I thought we were loud.” 

Ian squints. “I only heard them that once. They weren’t that loud.” 

“Heh,” Mickey says. “You were sleepin like the dead. Could hardly breathe you were holding onto me so hard. Bet it was a link thing. Maybe she was usin’ the mojo to keep you knocked out. I could barely sleep. I don’t know what all they do, but they were screeching their heads off.” 

Ian laughs. “Let’s get cleaned up.” 

They get up and Ian slaps Mickey on the ass. Mickey is still pulling on his boxers when Ian opens the door. 

"Woah," Ian says. 

The smell is thick. Two scents. Mixed together. It’s strange to smell Clara so strongly after having to track a faint scent on the band t-shirt. But here they are, the two of them, and it smells completely right. He knows it's partly sex. Probably _mostly_ sex. He’s not completely naive. He knows that. But it's more than that. It's overwhelming in a way he can't put a finger on. He didn't know that compatibles were like this. That together they smelled this good. 

He wonders what he and Mickey smell like together. 

“Jesus,” Mickey says. 

Their door is closed. The smell is strong enough that it slides under the door into the hall. Ian raises a finger to his lips. “They gotta be tired, then,” he says. “C’mon, let’s go.” 

Ian finishes the shower before Mickey. Mickey will be in there a while, cleaning out a bit. He always wants Ian to leave during that part, even though Ian always wants to help. Mickey always says there isn’t enough room for both of them when that happens. Ian thinks it might be because it's intense, and he wants privacy.

He towels off and darts across the hall. He finds his clothes, and soon he’s bounding down the stairs. His stomach growls. 

He stops short, eyes wide, when he reaches the kitchen. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes. 

“Hey,” Elizabeth says. “Good morning.” 

She’s sitting at the table, legs crossed, foot casually bouncing up and down. Strong. Almost normal? Wait. What? 

“Morning,” he says carefully. 

She’s wearing what he thinks must be Clara’s dad’s clothes. Sweatpants and a big t-shirt. She raises her cup of coffee in greeting. “Thought you guys were gonna break right through the floor.” 

Clara laughs. “You didn’t wake up during the night, did you?” 

Ian shakes his head slowly. “So Mickey was right?” 

“What do you mean?” 

Ian chuckles and looks at Elizabeth. “You used your link mojo to keep me asleep? So I wouldn’t be able to hear what was going on?” 

She snorts. “Maybe.” 

Clara meets her eyes and grins. 

“So hey, you were loud,” Elizabeth says brightly. “What was going on up there? Anything you wanna share?” 

“What?” 

Elizabeth looks away, looks at Clara. “I bet I know what it was.” 

“Oooh,” Clara coos. “Yeah, I bet you’re right.” She looks over at Ian, a sweet smile. “That's wonderful, Ian. It really is.” 

She links. _You worshipped him, right? It's because you’re getting closer._

“Closer to what?” Ian says out loud. 

Elizabeth and Clara share a look. 

“Bonding,” Elizabeth says. “Supposed to be the closest thing to it. Hand in hand.” 

Clara nods. “Was his skin hot?” 

Ian swallows. “Uh. Yeah?” 

They look at each other again, then back at Ian. “Ian,” Clara says. “He’s very lucky. You’re both very lucky. I don’t know what true claiming feels like.” She pauses and looks over to Elizabeth. Smiles. “Yet.” 

“You will,” Elizabeth whispers. 

Clara’s eyes brighten but she doesn’t respond. She turns her attention back to Ian. “Anyway, I don’t know that feeling yet. But worship to that level is unbelievably intense for an omega. You pleased him. You pleased him to a literally overwhelming degree. It’s a whole different level now that you’ve done that.” She closes her eyes, then opens them slowly, looking at Elizabeth. 

Elizabeth smiles. “Remember the first time that happened to us? I was so confused at first, but you knew exactly what was happening.”

He sees Clara breathe faster. “Yes,” she whispers. She shifts in her chair. 

“You’re so beautiful when I worship you,” Elizabeth murmurs. She leans closer. “Like, last night? Oh god. When you–”

“So!” Ian turns away. “Uh. Food?”

“There were waffles in the freezer. And sausage. And blueberries. We left it out.” 

“Cool,” he says, smiling. 

“Hey,” Mickey says, feet hitting the stairs hard. “What are we–” 

He freezes when he sees Clara and Elizabeth at the table. He looks from Clara to Elizabeth and back to Clara again. 

“The fuck is this? You got a magic vag?” 

Clara flushes red and shrugs. She looks down at her plate. 

“She has a magic _every_ thing,” Elizabeth says. She ticks the list off her fingers. “Magic hands, magic fingers, magic tongue, magic–” 

“I got it, I got it,” Mickey says. 

“No, but seriously,” Ian says. “Are you, like, okay now?”

Elizabeth shrugs. “I guess?” 

“Sex cure?” Ian laughs. “That’s all?” 

Elizabeth laughs. “I don’t know. They don’t usually study it like this? It’s usually after the Alpha dies. Once they’re dead, some scientists dissect brains or–” 

“Don’t say that,” Clara blurts out. She quickly sits up straighter and reaches for Elizabeth’s arms. She bumps the table and the coffee sloshes around over the brim. “Don’t say that. I can’t hear you say that. Don’t say that. Don’t–” 

“Shh,” Elizabeth says. “Come here.” 

Clara stands up and shakily moves toward her. Elizabeth guides her to her lap. Her arms wrap around her completely. Clara’s face presses into her neck. “Shh,” Elizabeth says “I’m here. I’m okay. We’re okay.” 

Ian feels Mickey looking at him. Ian nods toward the food on the counter. Mickey finds his hand and guides him over. Ian doesn’t get very far before Mickey pushes him against the sink and kisses him. Ian lets him guide it. Mickey’s skin is hot again. Not as much, but it's there. Mickey pulls away and whispers into Ian’s neck.

“Don’t,” Mickey says, voice choked. 

“Don’t what?” 

“Don’t leave me. Break up with me.”

“Mick,” he says, sliding his hand down his back. “I’m not going to leave you. I promise.” 

“I don’t want them to get you,” he says. “Do some fuckin’ experiments on you.” 

Ian kisses him. His mouth is so soft. When they pull away, Ian’s hand cups his face. “They won’t,” he says “I promise.” He holds him tighter. “Hey, let me make you some breakfast. Get some coffee. Go sit down.” 

“Who has my phone?” Elizabeth asks suddenly. 

No one says anything. 

“No one has my phone? Where is it? Back at the clubhouse?” 

“I don’t know,” Ian says. 

“Shit,” she says under her breath. “I need to call work. Adam has stalled for me enough. He said I had a bad flu. I took it to the level that I had explosive diarrhea. I don’t think I can buy any more time.” 

“Ew,” Clara says. 

“I got the burner still,” Mickey says. 

“Great,” Elizabeth says, relieved. “I gotta call and figure this out. I’ll probably have to go in later.” 

Ian shakes his head hard. “No,” he says. “I’m not gonna let you do that. Last night you were crawling up the stairs.” 

“I know,” Elizabeth says. “But then this beautiful woman made love to me and now I’m cured. I’ll be okay. I have to be. It’s getting too suspicious.” 

“No,” Clara says. She starts sliding her fingers in Elizabeth’s hair, almost desperate. “No, you can’t leave me.” 

“Baby,” Elizabeth says. “I’m not going to leave you-leave you. I’ll be back before you know it. Ian will look out for you. You’ll be safe, I promise. And I’ll come back and be all yours. We can go straight to bed.” 

Clara shakes her head slowly. “I don’t like this,” she says. “Something doesn't feel right.” 

“I know,” she says. “But I gotta.” She slides Clara’s hair back, revealing her bruised neck. She nuzzles and licks there until Clara stills and relaxes.

“Stand up,” Ian says. “I’m not letting you leave until you stand up and I see you walk around the room. 

“C’mon,” she says. “I’m fine.” She holds Clara tighter. 

Ian shakes his head. “Do it.” 

Elizabeth sighs, exasperated. “Okay.” Clara stands up again, and Elizabeth rises to her feet. She walks around the room easily, as if nothing had happened. “See?” 

Ian can feel his wide eyes. “Holy shit,” he says. “I can’t believe it.” He looks over at Clara. “There’s no way you aren’t magic.” 

Clara laughs lightly. She blushes again. 

*

The pizza bagels shoot into the cart from several feet away.

“Jesus!” Ian jumps. 

“Heh,” Mickey says. “You’re just starin’ into space. What’s with you?” 

Ian looks down at the pizza bagels. Pepperoni. “It’s nothing,” he says. 

It’s stupid to think of this in the middle of the grocery store, standing in the frozen aisle with his boyfriend throwing things into the cart. Maybe it’s the way the goosebumps are rising on his skin. The cold. Warm. Heat. Mickey’s heat. How does he know how it feels? He said he’s gotten a heat because of him. But what else? What did he do? Who did he do? Who got to touch him like that? Feel him like that? 

Another box hits the cart, but bounces off. Mickey smiles around a swear word. He looks relaxed. Happy, even. Ian bends to pick it up. Sausage. 

“Wait. Where’s Clara?” Ian asks, looking back over his shoulder. 

“Probably still looking at fruit,” Mickey snorts. “I’ve never seen someone look so fuckin hard at oranges.” 

“Hey, at least there are vitamins involved,” Ian teases. He shifts his feet. He feels antsy. “You done? We really gotta find her.” 

“Go ahead,” Mickey says, poking around the freezer. The cold air rises around him. “Be right there.” 

“No. You gotta come with me,” Ian says, just a hint of Alpha. He is suddenly very nervous. Clara should be done by now. “We gotta go get her.” 

Mickey sighs dramatically and lets the freezer door shut with a bang. 

Ian pushes the cart fast. Something’s wrong. Fuck. He can’t believe Elizabeth trusted him with her. Fuck. Fuck. 

His eyes are wild when he rounds back by the produce. But there she is, standing there, lifting pomegranates and weighing them in her hands. 

“Clara,” he says sternly. 

Her head snaps up, and he can tell her omega is reacting to him in full force. She slowly puts her head down. 

“Shit,” Ian mutters. He crosses over and takes the pomegranate from her hand. He slips his hand in hers. “Look up,” he says. “I didn’t mean that. I was just nervous. You were taking a long time and I was worried I lost you.” 

“Okay,” Clara says quietly. She squeezes his hand. “I know it can be intense. I’m okay, all right?” 

“Okay,” he says, breath shaky. He breathes in and out. “Sorry to kinda Alpha. I didn’t mean it.” 

She pats the back of his hand. “I know. And it’s a lot of responsibility to look out for a pack member’s omega. It can be intense. And omegas tend to wander when their Alpha isn’t there but they’re still with pack. So I can feel you here and I feel taken care of, but it’s a different feeling than if Elizabeth was here. So I feel free to roam around as long as I can feel you. But that can backfire. It’s something about the nervous system that science hasn’t quite hammered out. It’s flawed as hell, and a very big downside to meds. One of many. If I wasn’t medicated, I’d be more receptive to all of your emotions, all the nuances. So if you were getting anxious about where I was, I’d come running like a magnet. But with meds, I can’t feel that. We can’t feel that. That’s how people get in trouble. Lost. Taken. All that nightmare stuff.” 

Ian looks down at the pomegranate. “But does that make you feel like a kid or something? Like I’m your dad and you’ll get in trouble?” 

When he looks up, Clara has a strange look on her face. He can’t read it. It’s completely different. 

“Clara? You okay?” 

She reaches out and takes the fruit from his hand. “No,” she says quietly. “It’s not like you’re my dad. You wouldn’t like my dad.” 

Ian doesn’t quite know what to say, but then he remembers Elizabeth that first time they talked, before all this, in that blue room in the hospital. “Elizabeth said that after your Reveal she slept in her car? And your dad came and knocked on the window? She said he looked at her like he had no idea who she was.” 

Clara shifts her feet. Ian can feel her trying to break away from him. Struggling. Her omega is struggling to get out from under his gaze. He takes a deep breath and it ebbs back. She’s released. Immediately, her eyes move out of his vision, falling on the wall of vegetables behind him. “My dad didn’t like her,” she says quietly. “Even before Reveal.” 

“Why not?” 

“I don't really know.” Clara takes a deep breath. “It’s not like he forbid me from hanging out with her. I mean, obviously. We were always together, sleeping in the same bed and all that stuff you already know. We were best friends before we were lovers.” 

“Did he know you were gay?” 

She shakes her head. “I think he had an idea she was, but I don’t know if that was it. It sounds strange, but I think he was threatened by her. He was always very aware of her in the house. He would get pretty Alpha. My mom and I would clam up and look away, but Elizabeth would be right there, head up. Even before Reveal she was like that. She doesn’t back down for anyone. My dad doesn’t like that. Not at all.”

“Your dad’s an Alpha.” 

She looks back at him. “You didn’t smell it in the house?” 

He shakes his head slowly. 

She shrugs. “Probably because they’ve been gone so long. You’d be able to smell it otherwise. I think. I’m pretty sure? E had trouble coming over for a little while after she Revealed. His scent was too strong. By then she was just sneaking in, of course. No way would he let her in after that.”

“How did he not smell her? I’m confused.” 

“I bought all this experimental neutralizer stuff online, mostly from Mexico. There was a spray, but that didn’t seem to work on him. He could smell the spray itself, and that means it didn’t work. But I did this herbal smudging stick, and when he didn’t react to it, I bought the incense version. My mom smelled it, but she didn’t seem to know what it was for,” She shrugs a little. “Or if she did, she didn’t say anything. I know she knew about Elizabeth. I just knew it. That she knew we were together. My dad travels a lot for work, so I know I got lazy about burning the incense when he was gone. Without that, I’m pretty sure she could smell us. But she never said anything.” 

“She’s an omega?” 

“Yeah,” she says. She sighs and wipes at her forehead. “Yeah, she’s an omega. She does everything my dad says. Not like in a bonded way. Like, in a scared way. A bully. Abusive, even. It wasn’t the most healthy model for being an omega. We don’t really get along anymore. Not since she found out I’m gay. She’s not combative or anything. She just cries a lot. My dad hates it, too. But he seems to understand that it’s nothing I can change. He’s a scientist. He’s not stupid. My mom just thinks I just haven’t met the right guy. She’s still stuck on the guy I dated. It was only three months, but it was enough.” 

Suddenly Ian looks around. He can see Mickey over by the bakery, looking at the cookies and cakes. Good. At least he can see him. 

“What about Elizabeth’s parents?” Ian asks. “She hasn’t really said anything about them. Were they okay with you guys?” 

She nods. “Mostly,” she says. “I guess before Reveal they already had an inkling. But after she was hospitalized, they knew for sure. But they knew my parents were definitely not okay with us being together. So they discouraged it for a while, but still let me come over for a couple weeks after she was released. But when we started spending time alone in her room, they put their foot down. She got a lock. They took it off when she was at school. Finally, they had a blowout one night, and after that, I wasn’t allowed to come over anymore. So I snuck in. Most of the time I was at her house.” She gives a crooked little grin. “Her bed was bigger. It’s that same one she has at her apartment? You know how tiny my bed at home is. And how much it makes noise when things get...active.” 

Mickey holds up a package of cookies with heavy frosting and sprinkles. “We’re gettin’ these,” he calls over. 

Ian fights a smile and nods. “So what about now? Are her parents still okay with her?” 

The words barely leave his mouth before the color drains from Clara’s face. 

“Clara? What’s wrong. What did I say?” 

Mickey comes up beside them. “There’s 8 in these. Two for all of us, but I’ll eat more if you don’t want em.” 

Ian doesn’t respond. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong with her parents?” 

Clara shakes her head. “I thought she told you. They died. Car wreck. But something wasn’t right about it. Police were investigating it for a while. Something about the measurements of the trajectory? But then suddenly it all went away. They stopped asking questions. It was just over.” 

“Shit,” Mickey says. 

Clara drags her fingers over the pile of fruit. “And then from there they started perusing her hard for the med program. They pulled her from school, fast-tracked her and she was done in a year. They got her all to themselves.”

“A fuckin conspiracy is what that is,” Mickey sputters. “Isolating her like that.”

Ian nods. He looks over Mickey’s shoulder, back toward the bakery. There’s a woman in a dark purple coat who’s been there a while. 

“Hey,” he says quietly to Mickey. “Was that lady there the whole time you were up there?” 

Mickey looks behind him. “Yeah. Why?” 

Ian swallows, and Clara takes a small step closer. She lets go of the pomegranate. 

“What was she doing? What was she looking at?” 

Mickey shrugs. “I dunno. Cakes? That’s the case where where the cakes are.”

“Ian,” Clara whispers. “Is there a camera?” 

His eyes flick upward, above the bakery case, the people in white coats and hats moving trays around and pulling out desserts. There. In the corner. The small image of him looking back at himself. Camera. 

“Shit,” he says quietly. He brushes Clara’s hand. You guys start walking. We gotta get out of here. 

“The food though,” Mickey says. 

Clara shakes her head. “He’s right. We gotta go.” 

The woman in the purple coat turns slowly to face them. She meets Ian’s eyes, and her eyes pull just the slightest bit. 

He should be afraid, right? But he isn’t. He should flee. But he doesn’t. His Alpha sends out what feels like fire, each nerve fired hard. He hears a growl in his throat. The hair stands up on the back of his neck. 

“Ian,” Mickey breathes. 

Ian’s eyes don’t leave her face. He feels his eyes pull in response. He growls louder. He pulls at Mickey and Clara, pulls them behind him, one arm holding them tight against his back. Pressed right up against him, so close he can feel the expanding of their chests against his back as they breathe, their breath quick against his shoulder blades. 

His shoulder blades? Wait. It should be his neck. Wait. He’s taller. That’s what it is. He feels both their heads pressed against him, each inside the expanse of his shoulders. Bigger. Taller. His eyes feel full and hot, and he finds himself pressing his lips back, showing his teeth. 

“211,” he hears over the loudspeaker. 

He can feel the air between them. Him and the lady with the purple coat. Behind her, he sees the bakery workers and the deli people run into a staff door and slam it shut. 

“Ian,” Mickey pants. 

The woman in the purple coat walks toward him slowly. She slowly raises her hands, palms out, like surrender. “I’m not here to hurt you,” she says. “My eyes are like this because I’m scared. We don’t have much time. They sent me to warn you.” 

“Who sent you?” 

“You have to be careful. More careful than you’ve been. She’s getting sloppy. Arrogant.”

He clenches his teeth. “You don't know her like I do. Fuck that.”

“Ian,” Clara whispers against his back. “Help.” 

“211,” he hears again. 

“I asked who sent you,” Ian says, another growl. “Who sent you?” 

She looks away, looks around. “They’re coming.” 

Ian is pressing them against his back so hard. He feels like his whole hand is spanning both their bodies. “Who’s coming?” 

“The Institute,” she says. “They know Elizabeth isn’t with you. They know she’s weak.” 

“She’s not weak,” Ian snaps. “They don’t know what they’re talking about.” 

A loud siren sounds outside. Ian can see the lights from the cars through the windows.

“They have cars everywhere, Ian,” the woman says. She said his name. 

He shakes his head. “Where am I supposed to go?” 

“Follow me,” she says quickly. 

Ian manages to pull Mickey and Clara out from behind his back in one small second. He doesn’t even feel like they are walking. They’re all floating, almost, following the woman in the purple coat through a swinging door. 

Trap. It could be a trap. But he doesn’t think it’s a trap. 

“Here,” she says. She opens a walk-in refrigerator. “There’s a little hidden door at the back. Behind the milk crates,” she says. “There’s a van.” Ian hesitates. The woman stops and looks at him. Clara’s face is pressed into Ian’s chest. “Let me see her face.” 

“No,” Ian says. 

But Clara pulls away from him. Almost right away she says “The pin. On her coat. Okay. It’s okay.” 

“What the fuck is–”

“211!” 

“Now,” the woman says. “Now, now. Hurry.”

Ian finds the door and pushes it open. It’s small, no bigger than a crawl space door. He somehow manages to get the three of them out. The van is parked so close he can hardly the the rest of the alley. 

It’s the same van. The same people, hoods and darkened windows. The same near-silence of the engine. 

The Resistance. 

The door slides open, and the car is already moving as they jump inside. 

All he can hear are sirens. “Get down,” someone says. “Hold onto something.” 

They round the corner slowly. Ian is holding Mickey’s hand. Clara’s hand. 

“Shit,” someone mutters. “They got her.” 

“Goddamn it,” another one says. “I knew it was taking too long.” The person turns their head but Ian can’t see their eyes. But he doesn’t have to. He can hear the woman screaming. 

There’s a growl. “Why didn’t you just leave, Alpha? You put everyone in danger. And you did this. They got her because of you.”

“Hey,” Clara says, and the firmness of her voice startles Ian. “She didn’t disclose and didn’t show her pin until it was almost too late.” 

A voice comes from the back. “She took too long,” they say evenly. “She always takes too long.”

Another voice. “Don’t put it all on Gillian. She’s done too much for us. We don’t know what’s going to happen next for her, and worse comes to worse, we don’t speak ill of the dead.” 

“Second,” someone says. 

“Aye,” the rest of them say. 

“So it is spoken,” the first voice says.

Ian holds onto Mickey’s hand harder, and lets Clara’s go as she slides into a vacant seat in the van. 

“Elizabeth’s at work,” she says. “First day back. What’s her status?” 

“Secured,” the person in front says. “We planted someone. Another female doctor from D.C. Name’s Phoebe. She’s from the Chicago area, but way north. She was stationed in D.C. shortly after Elizabeth. She said she remembered Elizabeth from her exams.” 

Phoebe. Phoebe Riley.

“Ian,” someone from the back says. “Phoebe mentioned that she believes she was attempting to link with Elizabeth during her exam, but didn’t know that was what she was doing at the time. If that is accurate, and she is nearby, you need to be aware that she may be part of your pack.” 

It’s a strange feeling. One he doesn’t expect. He feels defensive and rude, fiercely protective of what they already have. Protective of Clara and Mickey, too. He doesn’t want her. Period. He doesn’t want her. Or anyone. 

“I know,” someone says. “It doesn’t feel right at first. But if this is true, she could be a great asset to your pack. She’s very skilled. Very strong. Quick thinking. She’s light and fast. Not as tall as you are, but she makes up for it in speed.” 

“Is it just her?” Clara asks. “Or did you plant anyone else? Is anyone with her?” 

No one says anything at first. 

“Did I say something wrong?” Clara says, softer. 

“She had a bonded and claimed omega that passed away last fall,” a man’s voice says. “What was her name? I forgot.” 

“No matter,” a woman says sternly. “Her name is written and sealed sacred now. Watch yourself.” 

There’s a moment of quiet.

Mickey clears his throat. “What happened to her? The omega?” 

No one answers. 

“Is she okay?” Ian asks. “Phoebe? Did she get sick like Elizabeth?” 

“Some of the experimental drugs have aided her grief and eased the worst of the physical manifestations. But it hasn’t been very long. She wanted to come here. We weren’t sure she was up for it, but she said it felt right. She said she wanted to help Elizabeth. Felt connected. She says she thinks Elizabeth won’t be receptive - that before she came off as cold - but she hopes they can fix that. We don’t have time for interpersonal dramas.” 

It’s not a ton of bricks, but it’s close. The realization hits him fast. He must gasp, because Clara immediately says “What?” 

He turns to face her. He can’t see her completely because of the blackened windows, but can see her enough. “I remember,” he says. “She told me. Elizabeth did.” He stops before he mentions the other part. Elizabeth’s cutting. “She told me about her. That she was strong and happy and confident. It was after you were gone, but ask her about it.” 

A man coughs. Coughs harder. Harder still. 

“Hey,” someone says gently. Ian can see the shadow of an arm coming over, rubbing someone else’s back. “She’s gonna come back. She’s just making sure things are okay with her sister, right? She’s flying home in a week.” 

“I know,” the man says. He coughs hard again, gasps for breath. “It’s just been too long. A month is a long time for her to be out of my sight. It hurts.” 

“I know,” someone else says. “You’re holding up great. We’ve got you.” 

A month? Some bonded Alpha is coughing and struggling for breath because his omega has been gone for _a month_ ? The information both impresses and frightens him. That it could be that intense. 

“So The Resistance,” Mickey says. He sounds sure of himself. “We’re all deep in it, right? And Clara is deep in it, right? With Elizabeth?” 

“We’re all deep in it,” the driver says. 

“How many are like us?” Mickey says. Ian squeezes his hand. Us. 

“There are pockets. Charters,” Clara says. “Like, Minneapolis is one. You remember hearing about that one. And D.C. That’s much smaller. We have a solid group in Mexico City. There’s a group forming in the pacific northwest, but the location has not been disclosed.” 

“Minneapolis is weakening,” someone says. “Since you left. It’s weakened.” 

“That was to be expected,” someone else says. “But they must keep their own charter alive. Clara was considered crucial for their survival and they leaned too hard on that. They need to learn to stand on their own now that she’s gone. We need her here.” 

“Shit. You’re a big deal,” Mickey says under his breath.

“Kinda,” she says. 

“Turn there,” a woman says. “Elizabeth said to take them to this house.” 

The van rolls to a stop, and when Ian drags the door back, he can see Clara’s house. 

“She’s inside,” the woman says. “Phoebe may be with her.” 

“Thanks,” Ian says. 

They make it from the van to the house in just a few steps. Clara looks over her shoulder quickly, but the van left as quickly and silently as it came. She slides the key into the lock, but it’s already unlocked.

“Weird,” she says. “E would have locked it.” 

They open the door quietly and slowly. 

“Hello?” Clara says. 

Elizabeth is sitting at the table, the chair pulled out, sitting knee to knee with a thin, black haired woman. Their palms rest together, extended in front of them. They are staring at each other. They do not break eye contact or acknowledge that they came in. 

“Phoebe?” Ian asks. Almost immediately after saying it, a wave of recognition floods him. It’s like he’s known her for years. He feels tingles all over his body.

 _"Yes."_ It's a link, not out loud. She doesn't look at him.

Ian looks at Elizabeth. “Can you help me out here?”

“Do you feel her?” Elizabeth says.

Ian nods. “She's one of us, isn't she. Ours.”

 _“Yes,”_ Phoebe says in the link. _“I knew it right away.”_

Ian takes a step closer. His voice drops. “She's the girl from the exam, isn't she?”

They both nod in unison. 

“We’re learning about each other,” Elizabeth says. “Just linking. It's your turn to fill her in next. Tell her about you. And Mickey, too.”

“Okay,” he says quietly. 

He steps away and into the kitchen. Clara and Mickey are going through cabinets, trying to figure out what to do with a bunch of beans and no produce.

“There's frozen stuff?” Clara offers. 

“If they ain't pizza bagels, I'm not interested.”

She gives him a playful shove. “Maybe there’s sausage? I don't know.”

“Sausage is good,” Mickey says. 

Ian can't help it. Maybe it’s the stress. Maybe it’s sausage. Maybe it’s just Mickey, like it always is. He breathes in deeply and grabs at him, pushing him against the sink and kissing him hard. Mickey gives a little sound of surprise, but quickly responds. 

“Okay then,” Clara says with a little laugh. “I'll just go watch my girlfriend hand-talk to this...Phoebe person.”

Ian gives a little hum before he pulls back, kissing just below Mickey's ear. “Gonna take you to bed,” he says. 

“What about- _fuck that feels good_ \- the Phoebe person?”

His voice rumbles. “I'll talk with her later. Right now, I wanna rip your clothes off. You can come with me upstairs or we can do it right here. Your choice.”

Mickey laughs against his teeth. “Don't want to scare off a bunch of lesbos I guess.”

Ian pulls him away and smacks him hard on the ass. Mickey yelps and pushes him off. 

“So you'll just talk later I guess?” Clara says, gesturing toward the others with her head. 

Ian chuckles and keeps pushing Mickey toward the stairs. They only make it up a few steps before he pushes Mickey up against the wall. He presses his palm against Mickey’s crotch. “That's it,” he coos. “There's that beautiful cock. So hard. Get it leaking for me so I can suck it.”

“Yes,” Mickey gasps. “Fuck. Let's get upstairs.”

He turns to pull Ian up the stairs, but Ian is on him again. He pushes him up against the opposite wall. 

He goes to kiss him, but Mickey's back pushes off the wall. There's a thunk, and then something rolls, and then there’s a smash at the bottom of the stairs. It's a picture frame. They knocked a picture off the wall.

“What was that?” Clara calls. 

Ian pads down the stairs, trying to breathe away the remaining tension in his pants. “I'm sorry,” he says. “The glass broke, right?” 

She gently lifts it and turns it over, “It’s okay,” she says. “They probably won't even notice. It's an old picture of them.”

She turns it so he can see the photo. 

He cannot breathe. 

It's him. The man. The man from school. The man from The Institute, asking all those questions. The one who tried to scrape into his mind. Who threatened him. Slapped him. It's him. It's him, sitting next to woman with Clara’s kind eyes.

He swallows. His voice shakes. “Clara, who are they?”

She turns the picture back around. “My mom and dad,” she says. “Why?”


	9. Phoebe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian learns about the newest member of his pack. Elizabeth struggles with the past.

He swallows. His voice shakes. “Clara, who are they?” 

She turns the picture back around. “My mom and dad,” she says. “Why?”

He can’t stop looking at it. It’s him. The man. The Alpha. The Alpha that threatened him. Threatened Mickey. 

The Alpha that warned him to stay away from Clara. 

Clara squints. “Is something wrong?” She turns the photo back around, carefully touches a larger piece of glass still stuck in the frame. “I promise, Ian. It’s not a big deal. I’m not mad or anything.” 

Ian nods slowly. “I should,” he says. Swallows. “I should get a broom to clean this up.” 

“You don’t have shoes on,” Mickey says. “Gonna step on all the glass crumbs or whatever.” 

“I’ll be okay,” he says. He tries to settle his breathing. He can feel that thing in his body. That racing feeling. His brain full of chatter. He feels like he can’t breathe. “Just let me. I’ll be okay.” But he can’t move. He just sits there. 

He doesn’t realize that he’s been holding onto Mickey’s arm tightly until Mickey says “Ouch. Quit it.” 

Ian turns to him, wide eyed. Mickey leans back slightly. “Ian, what’s wrong?” His voice is concerned. Quiet. 

“I said it’s not a big deal.” Clara says lightly. “I promise.”

There’s a sound from the kitchen, like chair legs on the floor. It’s Elizabeth. He can feel her. _What’s wrong_ she links. 

_Help._ It’s all he can say. _Help, help help. I need to talk to you by yourself. Help._

Elizabeth is nodding as she appears by the stairs. She looks down at the shattered glass, the picture of Clara’s parents. “Oh,” she says. “It’s okay. I’ll get a broom.” 

“Elizabeth, wait,” Ian says quickly. He stops. Links again. _I saw him. It’s him. The guy from school. The guy whose face I couldn’t see. It’s him._

“No,” she says out loud. 

“Yes,” he says. 

Clara looks back and forth. “What aren’t you telling me?” 

Ian feels movement under his hand. It’s Mickey. 

“Eh, too tight,” Mickey says, trying to get out of his grip. “Relax.” 

“It’s nothing,” Elizabeth says quickly. “It’s fine.” She cranes her neck down the hall. “Phoebe? Can you get the broom? The little closet by the fridge.” 

Phoebe appears, but doesn’t say anything. She shakes her head when Elizabeth reaches for it, and starts to sweep up around them herself. She looks up at Ian. _”Hi.”_ She has a small smile. _”I’m sorry. I don’t talk out loud anymore. I mean, I don’t physically speak. But I can hear you through our link. What do you need me to do?”_

_I’m not sure,_ Ian links. _I’m kind of freaking out._

Phoebe nods. She reaches a hand out and puts it on Elizabeth’s shoulder. _”Get her upstairs. Him, too.”_

“Okay,” Ian says. He leans over to tell Mickey, but he’s already nodding. 

“Tired anyways,” he says. “Nap.” 

Ian keeps leaning. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Let me just talk to them a bit. Figure out what to do?” 

Mickey nods. “S’okay.” He pauses, then quickly kisses him. As if he’s very embarrassed, he turns and hurries up the stairs. 

Clara puts the picture down and reaches for Elizabeth. “What aren’t you telling me,” she says. More stern. She doesn’t sound like an omega when she says it. 

Elizabeth shakes her head. “Just some Alpha stuff,” she says. “It’s okay. We gotta catch up with some things.” 

Clara shakes her head, and there’s her voice again. Strong. She turns to Ian. “Don’t lie to me.” 

Ian opens his mouth to respond, but Elizabeth is already right there. “He's not. We just have to figure something out. I don’t even know what’s going on.” 

“What am I supposed to do up there? Just wait?” She shakes her head. “I can’t just sit there when I know something’s wrong.” She starts to stand, and Elizabeth guides her away from the glass before bending toward her, lips against her ear. 

It would be almost soundless, her lips against her ear, in some other context. But Ian is so attuned to her at that moment, on high alert, that he can hear. “It’s up to you,” she whispers. “You can sit here, or you can get ready for me. Your choice.” 

Clara’s eyes close, but she doesn’t say anything out loud. 

“Okay,” Elizabeth whispers. She brings her hand up to cover her mouth, but Ian can still hear her. “Take those clothes off. Spread out for me. Don’t touch yourself. If you still want to use it on me, go ahead and put it on. Not that one. The blue one. The one I like. Do you still have it in your room?” 

Clara’s cheeks flush. “Yeah,” she whispers, plain as day. “In my room. What about-” 

“He’ll be okay,” she whispers. “Tiptoe.” 

Clara grins. “Okay,” she breathes. 

“Go,” Elizabeth says. She reaches down and carefully helps her up. “Step over that step. Too much glass.” 

“Okay,” she says again, shakier this time. She pulls herself up with the railing and disappears. 

Phoebe has stopped sweeping and looks from Elizabeth to Ian. She huffs out a breath of a laugh. 

Ian crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. “We heard that,” he says. 

Elizabeth rolls her eyes and breathes out. “So sometimes I like a strap-on. So what? If she wants to use it, of course I’m into it. It’s not that often. Just cause I’m an Alpha doesn’t mean I’m not flexible with certain things.” 

“I’m never gonna be flexible like that,” Ian says firmly. 

“Yeah, okay tough guy.” 

Ian raises an eyebrow in Phoebe’s direction. She shakes her head and raises her hands. _”Hey, don’t look at me. Not my style.”_

__

Ian laughs as he looks back at Elizabeth. She shakes her head. “You guys don’t know what you’re missing. Might be once in a blue moon, but that moon is pretty nice.” 

__

“I’ll take your word on that,” he says. 

__

Elizabeth grumbles under her breath. “You could be, you know, a little more sex-positive?” 

__

“I am _plenty_ sex-positive. Plenty.” 

__

_”How do you still have straps anyway? Didn’t they tear her room apart looking for any evidence of gay? I thought you linked that they did that.”_

__

“Yeah,” Elizabeth says. “But she cut a little slot in the bottom of her box spring under the mattress. She sewed it shut just in case.” 

__

“That’s dedication,” Ian chuckles. 

__

She rolls her eyes. “Like you wouldn’t do the same thing in our position.” 

__

_”C’mon, let’s focus.”_ Phoebe leans against the wall. _”What is it? What's going on?”_

__

“It’s him,” he says. “I know it is.” 

__

Elizabeth shakes her head. “There’s no way.” 

__

_”Slow down. I don’t know what’s going on.”_

__

Ian finds himself linking with Phoebe quickly, catching her up to speed, giving her every thought, fear, emotion until her eyes widen. But again, when he tries to focus his mind on the man’s face, even though his face is right there next to him on the stairs, it’s just a face-shaped blur. 

__

“See?” Elizabeth sighs. “You don’t even remember his face, Ian. It’s not him. It can’t be. He doesn’t even work for them. The institute.” 

__

Ian isn’t sure what shifts, but he is hot all over and clenching his fists. “Will you fucking _listen_ to me?” Ian snaps. He raises his voice. Sharpened. Alpha. “I can’t believe you don’t trust me on this!” 

__

Elizabeth’s eyes darken fast, but she doesn’t say anything. Ian can see the set of her jaw. 

__

“Look,” Ian says, not backing down. “I don’t care if you don’t want it to be true. It _is_. Whatever you think you know about Clara’s dad is wrong.” 

__

There’s a growl. She leans closer. “He’s a beta fertility specialist. That’s all he is,” she spits. “He works in my building. I think I would know if he was part of The Institute. He’s just in the beta wing. 

__

“But do you ever see him though? How do you know he’s even there?” 

__

Elizabeth closes her mouth around another growl. Her eyes pull. “I know because I can _feel_ him,” she says. “I’ve always been able to feel him. I think I’d know if he was in Chicago.” 

__

“Then something is off,” he snaps. “Because he _is_ here, Elizabeth. He’s not in Florida. I don’t know where he is, but he’s in the city. For all we know, he’s recording us right here, right now.” 

__

Elizabeth isn’t trying to hold back anymore. Her eyes are pulled, her teeth keep flashing. “No.” 

“Yes! Why can’t you just fucking believe me? You think I’d make this up? I’m as freaked the fuck out as you are! What the hell are we supposed to do?” 

Phoebe steps closer. Ian didn’t know that you could yell while linking, but apparently, you can. _”Stop! Take a breath. Both of you are in rage response and it’s coming on too fast. Chill the fuck out. There’s no way we’ll get anywhere when you’re like this.”_

__

She’s right. Ian’s eyes are pulled and he is breathing so hard. There’s a steady buzz everywhere and he can’t ebb it back. He glances at Elizabeth, and she looks the same. Somehow they begin to match breath with Phoebe. It’s another thing he didn’t know about. That they could do that. He feels waves coming off Phoebe, and he floats on them until the buzz starts to quiet and he can breathe normally. 

Elizabeth shakes her head, looks from Phoebe to Ian. “It can’t be true,” she says, voice uneven. “It can’t be. He wouldn’t hide from us. He would make sure we knew he was here. He’s strong and he’s scary and I hate him. I hate him, Ian. I know he blames me. He blames me for everything. He blames me for Clara being gay. He hates me for blocking him all the times he’s tried to scrape me. He hates that I’m strong enough to do that. Strong enough that only weeks after Reveal that I could do it. He hates that he can’t control me.” 

__

“But he hit me in the face! How could he do that? I don’t get it!” 

__

Phoebe steps closer. _“Because he’s on enhancers. He probably doesn’t even sleep. It’s that thing they do in the military. The government grabs the strong ones and bends them into shape to use them. All The Institute people are like that too. They make sure that they stay wired. Under orders.”_

__

“But he was so calm. If he was on enhancers wouldn’t he be flying off the handle?” 

__

_Phoebe shakes her head. ”Not necessarily. They get the strong ones, force them into their mold. But most of the ones they choose are already secure in who they are. But not in a good way. They are used to living and operating with intimidation. Usually just quiet intimidation. They are used to getting their way like that.”_

Elizabeth’s voice is smaller. The growl is gone. “But he,” her voice shakes. “But he wouldn’t do that. He’s one of the top in his field. He’s amazing at what he does. He’s behind the scenes solving almost every single beta infertility problem. He’s incredibly talented in that regard. But not as a human. He’s terrible at being a human. An Alpha. He’s verbally and emotionally abusive to Clara’s mom. Maybe physically too, for all I know. And I swear that the only reason he came around to Clara being a lesbian is to put her back under her control. Make her feel like he accepted her so she would let him back into her life. And he knew that he wouldn’t have to worry about me anymore. At least, that’s what he thought.” 

It’s quiet. Phoebe exchanges a glance with Ian, but doesn’t link anything. 

Elizabeth’s eyes water a little. “He wouldn’t do this,” she says. “He wouldn’t say those things about Clara. He wouldn’t. She's an only child. He treats her like a prized possession. She’s too important to him.” 

Ian opens and closes his mouth. “Maybe she’s important for the wrong reasons.” 

Elizabeth touches the carpet, but hisses when a tiny bit of glass scrapes her palm. “No,” she says. Dismissive. Defensive. “No. This is bullshit. Even if it was him, he probably wanted to just freak you out enough that you’d stop hanging out with me. Her. Us.” 

“He knows we’re pack though,” he says carefully. “And he mentioned Phoebe, too. He knows.” 

She shakes her head. “Doesn’t matter. He just wants Clara under his control. He’s manipulative. Very manipulative. Even it was him, that was all it was. He didn’t mean anything by it. He didn’t mean it.” 

Ian looks back at the photo, and then up, weary. He’s about to say something else but there is Phoebe, looking at him softly, linking deeper, just to him. _”Don’t. Just let it go. She isn’t ready to hear it.”_

Ian reaches for Elizabeth’s hand. He looks down at her palm. Just the tiniest dot of blood. “I’m going to get a vacuum,” he says. 

Elizabeth pulls away, wipes her hands on her face. “Okay,” she says quietly. “Fine. Whatever.” 

“Elizabeth, I’m sorry. I’m just–” 

“Stop,” she says. “Please. I’m done. I need to go upstairs. I need to be with her.” Her eyes darken. 

That’s when Ian can feel it. Just a bit of a wave of...something. He can’t explain it, can’t recognize it. Something forceful, something powerful, but it’s not anger. It’s strong though. He feels like he could almost touch it. “I need to be with someone who makes sense,” she says quietly. 

Ian reaches for her hand. “Wait.” 

Her hand is cool to the touch. It looks longer than before. He covers her fingers with his. They are the same size. He looks up with widened eyes. “Have our fingers always been the same size?” 

“No,” she says quietly. “It’s because I’m starting to get ready.” 

There’s a little flash of recognition. Shit. Shit. “You mean…” 

“Yes. We’re getting ready.” 

Claming. Bond. “You're-wait, both of you? Did she stop taking-” 

“Yeah. We did.” 

“But it’s only been a couple days? How could you possibly–” 

“We’re meant to be together,” she says. “It doesn’t take long when you’re like that.” 

Suddenly there is a strong wave of nausea. 

They look over at Phoebe. Her eyes are blown black. Tears race down her cheeks. Ian tries to link her, but there’s a firm block. Cement. He can almost feel his brain smack against it. 

Her omega. 

Her dead omega. 

She doesn’t want to hear this. 

“I’m sorry,” Elizabeth breathes. “Oh god. I’m so sorry Phoebe.” 

Phoebe rushes away from the stairs. Ian can hear her sniffling in the kitchen. “Phoebe, wait,” Elizabeth says, about to follow, but Ian pulls her back. 

“I’ll go talk to her,” he says. “Go upstairs,” he says. “Go be sex positive.” 

She lets out a loud breath. “God, I hope she’ll fuck me with that thing. Especially after all this.” 

He raises an eyebrow. “Fuck you? Thought it was strictly a ‘making love’ situation?” 

She smiles. “It’s still that. It’s always that. This always feels a little bit more though. In my head. I go somewhere else in my head. I like that. Like I said, it’s not all the time, so it’s kind of special when it happens. And for an omega she can be quite...enthusiastic?” She stands up and steps carefully over the landing and up the stairs. "Don't forget to vacuum." 

It's in the front hall closet. Easy enough to find. It's a fancy one with lots of attachments. It gets the job done quickly. He can't figure out how to get the filter out, so he just sticks it back in the closet. 

He heads for the kitchen. Phoebe is there, looking out the sliding glass doors next to the kitchen table. The backyard is covered with snow. The deck is piled high. There’s a shovel leaning against the railing even though no one is supposed to be there to shovel. Her arms are wrapped around her body. 

“Hey,” Ian says softly. “You okay?” 

She turns slowly. He can see tears on her face. She wipes them away. She seems to look through him. She does not focus on his eyes, even though their eyes are locked. 

“I’m sorry about all that,” he says. “I didn’t think it through. She didn’t either. It doesn’t excuse it though, I know. I'm just–I'm just really sorry." 

She looks down at the table. _”I’ve had to deal with it already. Her being gone. Other people talking about bonding. It’s not like I can escape it. But I don’t have to act like I’m happy about it. Because I’m not.”_

Ian takes a small step closer, closer to the table, and sits down. “Do you want to talk about it? Or do that thing like you and Elizabeth did with your hands?” 

She doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything. _”I don’t know.”_

“Are you hungry or anything?” 

She shakes her head. _”I don’t know.”_

Ian looks down at his hands. “What did it feel like?” 

He can hear more than see Phoebe pull out a chair and sit down. _”Which part? Meeting her? Claiming her? Losing her?”_

Ian doesn’t look up. “I know I shouldn’t ask. I shouldn’t ask about any of it.” 

Her hand slowly comes into Ian’s line of vision. She carefully takes her hand in his. 

Ian can see her. He can see Phoebe rummaging in a locker, almost dropping a book. High school. She closes the locker and is fumbling with her backpack when a curvy girl with dark blonde hair turns the corner. Phoebe’s head snaps up and her eyes get wide. It's like she could sense the girl was there. He knows that Phoebe and this girl haven’t met yet, but he can feel Phoebe’s interest. Even from the outside, he feels that feeling again- a little pointed swell, just like when he was linked with Elizabeth on the dance floor. He knows what it means, now. 

There’s a little break, and he sees his hands on a desk. He’s wearing a watch with a big face and a green leather band. His hands are Phoebe’s hands. It’s like Elizabeth’s link at the club all over again. 

He looks up and it’s a classroom. He watches other students file in, and there she is. She has a green backpack with patches sewn on. She talks to the teacher quietly, and the teacher gestures to him. He sits up a little straighter, a little buzz in his stomach. 

The girl slides into the seat next to him. Her smile is wide and easy. “Hey,” she says, extending a hand. “I’m Violet. I’m new.” She giggles a little, rolls her eyes. “I mean, obviously I’m new. I don’t know why I said that.” 

His hand slowly reaches out. “I’m Phoebe. I’m...not new.” 

She takes his hand in hers. There’s something that happens, and he can feel it, but he can’t quite describe the feeling. It makes him gasp a little, and when he looks up at Violet, it’s obvious that she felt it, too. 

She keeps holding his hand, just right there, across the aisle, even as the teacher begins to try and rein in the loud classroom. She smiles a little smile. “Artemis? Greek mythology, right? Goddess of the moon?” 

His heart is beating so hard. “Ex-excuse me?” 

“Artemis? They also called her Phoebe?” She gives a little press of her hand, but doesn't let go. 

“Oh,” he says, trying to breathe. He looks down at her hand. “Uh, my parents named me after a bird? Like, there's this little bird. So.” God, he sounds so stupid. 

There's a tiny pause. “I like that even better,” she says. “Could I call you Birdy, maybe?” 

“Y-yeah,” he stammers. “Um, yeah, I guess that’s fine.” She makes him nervous, being so deliciously forward like this. Then again, he’s nervous all the time. Kind of shy. He stammers. Stutters, sometimes. He always has. And he’s used to sitting in the back of the classroom like this, shrinking in on himself. Not calling too much attention. Sometimes drawing in his notebook instead of listening. 

He’s probably too skinny. He knows that. But he can’t keep weight on. Not for all the butter in the world. He looks at his tiny wrist, draws a breath as Violet’s thumb traces over it. He is used to feeling awkward in his own body, but suddenly he doesn’t feel as awkward. Not when he can feel the heat of her hand like this. 

“Um,” he says. He starts to loosen his hand, and she gives another squeeze, but lets him drop it. He feels like he’s sweating. He is very aware of his knees all of a sudden. “S-so...um, where did you move from?” 

“Portland,” she says with a smile. “My dad got a job with United out here. It’s weird to switch schools when it’s March already, but he couldn’t wait until summer, and we sold our house faster than we thought. But it worked out okay with my credits transferring. I hope I don’t have to do summer school. I’m already itching to explore. Have you always lived here, Birdy?” 

His stomach gives an excited little flip at his new nickname. He can’t speak, so he nods. 

The teacher pounds on her desk.“That's enough! We have a lot to cover. Get your books out. Page 48. Listen up.” 

Violet leans across the aisle. “You’ll have to show me around, then.” She gives a little wink and smiles as she pulls her book out and sets her backpack on the floor. 

If he’s breathing, he doesn't know it. His hands shake as he pages through the book. He doesn’t remember what page the teacher said. His palms feel sweaty. He shifts in his seat again. 

The teacher starts talking about omega history in the 1960s, but soon he stops listening. He tries to keep his head facing forward, but his eyes are trying to look at the patches on her backpack. Eventually he has to put his head down and doodle on his notebook so he can see them better. He recognizes a couple of bands, but other ones mean nothing to him. 

He hears her clear her throat, just a little. His eyes snap up and she grins at him. She reaches down and turns the backpack around until the inside is showing, the spot that hugs her back when she puts it on. 

He glances down. 

It’s a rainbow flag. A rainbow flag patch with the omega symbol stitched into the center. 

He flushes hard and fast. He can feel his cheeks burning. When he meets her eyes again, she playfully raises one eyebrow. 

“What about you?” she whispers. “What do you got?” She lets her eyes drift over his chest quickly. 

He swallows–or tries to swallow–and shakes his head slightly. He doesn’t know what she means. He glances up at her again and shrugs his shoulder. 

She bites her lip, just a second, and shakes her head with a quiet little laugh. 

He’s so gone. He’s already so far gone on her. He might not have Revealed yet, but he’d give anything to not be the omega he believes he will probably be. He’s not strong enough to be an Alpha. Alphas aren’t nervous like he is. Alphas don’t try and blend into the scenery. Alphas don’t stammer when they talk, don’t stutter, don’t mumble. They don’t blush when someone says something to them. He’s tall, kind of, but Alphas are usually taller. Not awkward with sharp shoulder blades hiding under too-big cardigans. They don’t rush from class to class with their heads down. 

He spends the rest of the class with his head and eyes firmly focused on the teacher’s lesson. He can feel Violet staring at him a few times, but he doesn’t turn. 

Ian blinks because the room looks like it’s getting darker. Darker. Darker. 

He looks down and he’s holding someone’s hand. 

Phoebe. 

They are back in the kitchen. 

_”So that was the start. That’s how she found me out. She knew before I did. What I was. A lesbian. An Alpha. I was pretty sure about the former already, but the latter was a complete shock to me. I never in a million years thought I would be an Alpha. A beta, maybe. I thought I was too mousy, too shy to be anything other than an omega. And Violet? I didn’t know any omegas like that. When she was talking to me, I figured she was an Alpha. I couldn’t read her as an Alpha scent-wise, but it’s usually too hard to really know before Reveal anyway.”_

“So when did it happen? The Reveal part?” 

_”Before we get to that, you have to understand that she just started weaving her way into my life. I used to rush to class. Suddenly, she’s catching up to me, bouncing over and smiling her big smile. She interlocks our elbows and laughs at me when I blush. I always used to eat lunch alone in a stairwell that led to the basement, where people wouldn't easily find me. It was the last floor with a window, so I could see my book. I’d eat my sandwich and read. J.D Salinger. Faulkner. I read Carson McCullers that spring- ‘The Heart is a Lonely Hunter’. One day, maybe 2 weeks after she started school, she just appeared in front of me. I’m chewing and I can’t say anything, I almost choke. But all she did was sit down next to me, reach for the other half of my sandwich, and say ‘I thought this was where you might be. I thought I could smell you.’”_

“Woah,” Ian says, eyes wide. “Woah, you mean she could smell you even though you weren’t Revealed?” 

_”Yeah, That happens sometimes. Mickey wasn’t drawn to you already?”_

Ian shakes his head. “I mean, he was around sometimes, but not that much.” 

She nods. 

_“Then what?”_

She holds his hand again, and the room is brighter. He looks toward the light, and realizes it’s a window. 

“So then I was like, ‘Look, I learned all this before at my old school. I know you’re not going to believe it, but maybe you could just give me a final test early or something?.’ But then he was all ‘I still need you to catch up with participation credits, so you need to raise your hand more.’ Thankfully we figured it out. It’s the last day of school now, you know? Because obviously we can’t have summer school, Birdy. We have too many summer plans.” 

There’s something in his mouth. He’s chewing something. She offers a yellow bag in his direction. He reaches in. Gingersnaps. 

“M-m-maybe he was just trying to see how much you’d push it,” he says. “The tea-teachers can get so Alpha.” 

Violet smiles and shrugs. “Maybe.” 

He brushes off his hands and stands up. He’s messing around with his backpack again when he feels her hand on his arm. She guides him away from the stairs and slowly backs him up to the wall, right next to the window. 

She looks at his lips. “You knew that one day I’d kiss you, right?” 

He’s holding his breath. He must be. His eyes feel a little strange. He doesn’t answer. She smells so good. He suddenly wants to bury his nose in her neck, smell her closer, closer. 

She parts her lips and slowly slides her hand up his arm. She brushes her fingertips against his cheek. “I knew I wanted to kiss you the first time I touched your hand. I could feel it.” She leans closer, her lips inches from his. “Could you feel it?” 

He swallows and tries to nod his head, but he’s too busy looking at her mouth. He feels her other hand sliding around his waist. 

“Can you smell me?” she whispers. 

His breath shakes. She is so, so close. “Y-yeah." 

There’s a tiny noise in Violet’s throat. “Yeah? What can you smell?” 

It’s there, it’s so much stronger. Her skin. Not perfume, not soap, not the smell of school. It’s something beneath all that. He feels that pointed swell again. 

“Your neck,” he pants. 

Her lips ghost over his, so slowly it makes him give the smallest little moan. He doesn’t know what to do or say. Every nerve is firing. He feels his hand reach for her hip. He squeezes, and she gives a sharp intake of breath. 

The tiniest point of her tongue. Just a tap to his top lip before pulling it back. There’s a little sound again. “You know what this means, don’t you? I’ve been waiting months for you to understand. Understand what I could see the very first time I saw you. When I knew I was yours.” 

He can barely breathe. He brushes his lips against hers. “W-what do you mean?” 

“You’re an Alpha,” she whispers against his lips. Her hand slides gently and ever so slowly over his breast. “You’re my Alpha. You always have been. You haven’t Revealed yet, but I know you’re my–” 

His other hand flies up to the back of her head, and he pulls her in hard. He is kissing her. Deeply, confidently, beautifully. He is pulling her close and closer, his thumb brushing her cheekbone as their mouths open wider, so much wider, pressed as close as they could possibly be, his palm on the small of her back. She is trembling in his arms, and he breaks away just long enough to look in her eyes. She is woozy and smiling, and before he can kiss her again, Violet turns slowly, presenting her neck. 

“It’s for you,” she whispers. “Go ahead.” 

Her scent is in every drop of his blood, the blood pounding in his ears. He finds himself licking at her, groaning against her neck, starting to suck. 

She grabs the back of his head, gasping. “I knew it,” she whispers. Little pull of his hair. “I knew it was true.” 

He’s still facing out, against the wall. He has a feeling that if he opened his eyes, the spell might be broken. So he doesn’t. He opens them just long enough to see skin. Her skin. 

He feels himself touching her, but he doesn’t even know where. He has never felt this good in his life. Not just like this, this wave of belonging, but feel this good ever. If he spoke, if he could gather enough thoughts to speak, he knows he would not stutter. Not look away. 

Her lips are against his ear. Her breath is hot and she nips his lobe. “Birdy, have you had sex before?” 

He takes a deep, shaky breath, and his hands fumble against her. “No,” he whispers back. 

“Are you scared?” 

He kisses her again, tries to answer with his mouth. He reaches down and cups her ass. He can’t believe he’s doing it, but he’s doing it. She breathes hard when he breaks away. “No,” he says a little louder, bottom lip grazing her neck. “No, I’m not scared.” 

The room gets bright again, bright and bright, and then he’s in a room with purple walls. He’s in Violet’s house, in Violet’s room. He knows it. 

She is pressed against the door. He is holding her up, supporting her weight, and it’s easy, she doesn’t feel heavy. He feels strong. His body doesn’t feel strange and awkward. He could hold her up like this for hours. 

She is shifted up above him a little bit, moaning. He nuzzles into her breasts. Her shirt is off, and her bra is green and lacy and perfect and soft under his lips. He can feel her nipples, hard and straining, He gives a soft lick to them through the fabric, enough to make her whine. He pulls away just long enough to turn her around and lay her on the bed. He pauses above her, a knee on either side of her body. He stares into her eyes as she reaches behind herself, letting that green bra sip off. God, she's beautiful. He reaches for the hem of his shirt. He hesitates, but only for a moment. He pulls it off. No shame. No second-guessing. Not shy. Not anymore. Not with this. Not with her. 

Violet is flushed. “Can I see you?” 

He nods slowly. He reaches back and unhooks himself, letting the bra fall away somewhere. He doesn’t look down. He doesn’t need to see. He only looks at Violet’s face. Her fingertips trace his thighs as she gazes at his chest. She runs her hand over the front of his body, lips parted. She gently traces her fingertips over his breasts, little circles, a soft brush over his nipples before coming back to brush them again. He shudders with a little “oh” sound slipping from his lips. She reaches down to the waistband of his jeans and pops the button. He looks at her face, and he backs up off her, pulling at his jeans, kicking until they come off completely. 

He kisses her breasts. He doesn't have to think about it. Not once. Her loves their softness, their scent, their taste. Her fingers lace into his hair. He kisses along her sternum and stomach until his lips meet the top of her skirt. He breathes hard when his shaking fingers find the zipper. She is whining, whining things like yes and please. When he finally gets it off, she moans. 

He can smell her. Oh god. The smell of her, the deepest part of her, right there, close to his mouth. Immediately, he begins to brush his cheek on her stomach, stopping to kiss along her hip. He glances down, a darkened spot visible in the fabric that barely covers her. Wet. He groans before looking up. She is staring down at him, her mouth open and panting. 

“Birdy,” she whispers. “My Birdy.” 

He raises his head, brings his body up. He kisses her deep. She is holding the back of his head tighter when he reluctantly breaks the kiss. He pulls back and looks at her body, her beautiful body, before meeting her face again. “I don’t know how to do this,” he whispers. 

She smiles up at him, eyes bright bright bright. “I’ll show you,” she sighs, and she reaches for him. 

He closes his eyes. He opens them. There’s the kitchen again. There’s Phoebe’s hand. She gives it one last squeeze before she moves it to her lap. 

_”That’s pretty much it. I mean, you can of course imagine the rest. Eh, maybe not imagine-imagine. You saw more than enough. But I changed that day, and not just because I had sex for the first time. I was different, and that was the start. The important part. The part where I began to know who I was, or who I was capable of being, when I was with her. And after that, I didn’t feel awkward in myself. I felt strong. My speech changed, not overnight, but suddenly I realized I wasn't stammering anymore. I held my head up high. I was proud to love her. I was proud to be loved by her. Everything changed."_

“When did you Reveal then? Was it soon?” 

Phoebe opens her mouth, almost like she’s about to speak, even purses her lips, but closes down again. _”It was a couple of weeks. But it happened at the same time. For both of us.”_

“But I thought that Revealed already? Because of that patch on her backpack?” 

_”Not that. I Revealed and almost immediately, like down to the minute, she went into,”_ She pauses. Her eyes have pulled wide so fast, and she closes them. _”She went into a heat. So I didn’t–I mean, I couldn’t just leave her like that. Alone like that. The last thing I would ever dream of doing is leaving her, going to the A/B/O to get evaluated. There was no way.”_

“Where was she? When you figured it out?” 

_”She was at home. It couldn’t have been better timed - her parents were out of town for the week. You know how when you Reveal and you’re just crazy? I ran across town until I got to her house. I didn’t even knock. The door was locked, but I broke it. I ran upstairs and the whole way I was just ripping my clothes off. Literally ripping them. Tearing them. And she was right there, right in her bed, flushed and writhing around. I heard myself growling. It surprised me, but didn’t at the same time. And that was it. I almost don’t even remember what happened next, just that the day passed before we took a drink of water. By the time it was all over, the whole three days, we were both marked from head to toe, covered in each other’s scents. And it still didn’t feel like enough. That’s when she said it.”_

“Said what?” 

_“That I should claim her.”_

His mouth drops open. “So you just–you just did it? Right then?” 

She shakes her head. _“I waited. I didn’t go to the hospital. I can still pass as a beta a lot of the time. It’s not like I’m weak, but it doesn’t knock people over like it does with you and Elizabeth.”_

“So when?” 

She looks down at her hands. _”She went into another heat about a month later. She could feel it coming a couple days before it hit, and we concocted a story about going to take a road trip to the Indiana Dunes. We only managed to drive for about an hour before the heat struck. We didn’t make it very far. I can’t even tell you how I managed to find a motel. Once she started, I could hardly see.”_

He leans closer, and she looks up at him again. He opens and closes his mouth. “So how did you...how did you know, like, _how_ to? Claim her? And when?” 

She takes a deep breath. _”It just happened. So naturally. The whole thing just felt perfect. It wasn’t animalistic or anything. It was just this feeling of being, like, one person? Or like every thing one of us felt, the other felt it, too. And then there was this moment where we both knew it was time. And I did it. And then it was over. Sealed and done.”_

She sounds so tired. He should let her stop. Let her rest. But he’s curious. “Did it hurt her? When you did it?” 

She hesitates, but shakes her head. _”I mean, it’s intense obviously. You’re biting someone hard enough that their skin breaks wide open, and even though you immediately swipe your tongue over and heal it up until it’s just that round scar, it’s still going to ache a little. But she kept touching it and smiling, and crying, and kissing me and crying. Like, crying in a good way. I was crying, too. It was just so big, you know? But it was perfect. And once our parents found out, they were really, really happy for us. They were so supportive. We were very lucky. Violet’s parents bonded while they were still in high school, so us bonding when we did wasn’t weird. My parents accepted me being a lesbian right away, and they loved her. It was just so overwhelming. I felt like a new person. A better person. I felt...whole.”_

Ian swallows. “Wow,” he whispers. He tries to clear his throat. He’s thirsty. He rises to get some water, and suddenly he feels a block radiate from her so fast and hard he feels like he was punched in the back. 

He turns to face her, mouth hanging open in disbelief. She wipes the tears from her face. Her eyes are slightly pulled. _“I'm done. That’s all I’m going to say. I’m not telling you how she died. It’s not your business.”_

She changed so quickly. She’s defensive and disjointed feeling. He tries to link a little, just to calm her, but she blocks him even harder. He has to reach for the counter to steady himself. 

_”Maybe someday I’ll tell you. But I’m not telling you right now.”_

Ian nods. He pours a glass of water and slowly sets it in front of her. She brings it to her lips and downs it in one go. 

She opens her mouth again. She almost does it. Almost. But she closes it again. _”I’m tired. There’s a little office with a couch over there. I’m going to take a nap.”_ She shoves her chair back. 

“Thank you,” Ian says. “For trusting me with that. Her.” 

She pauses, then slowly looks at him. _”It’s nice to talk about her. I just wish there was a better ending. But I guess it’s not an ending until I’m gone, right? I'll be glad when it's really over.”_

Ian squints. “Wait. What do you mean?” 

She waves him off _”I’m not killing myself. I’m just saying.”_

He looks back at his hands. When he looks up again, she’s gone. 

* 

Mickey is sleeping, just like he said he would be. Ian slides next to him, trying not to disturb him, trying not to shake the bed too much. 

It doesn’t work. 

Mmm,” Mickey hums. “You ‘bout to start somethin’? 

Ian drapes himself over his back. “Hard not to when you’re naked. Were you hoping I’d fuck you when I came up?” He rumbles as his chin slides between Mickey’s shoulder blades. 

“Feels good,” Mickey murmurs. “Your stubble.” 

“Yeah?” Ian scratches his way up to his neck, and Mickey presses his forehead into the pillow so Ian can glide against each side of his neck. He can feel Mickey’s ass rising up from the bed. He slides his hand down his side before dipping in front. Mickey tries to press into his hand, but Ian’s fingers don’t quite touch his cock. He teases him, only the slightest brush of fingertips. 

“Fucker,” Mickey grunts. 

“You never answered my question,” Ian rumbles in his ear.“Were you hoping I’d fuck you? Is that why you got naked?” 

Mickey moans into the pillow. “Yeah,” he says, voice low. “Yeah.” 

“Where do you want me to fuck you? Want me to fuck your ass?” 

He moans again, tries to press back against him. “Yeah. My ass.” 

Ian is getting hard. Fast. He is getting some friction from his jeans, but it’s not enough. He presses against Mickey just the same. “Good,” he says. 

He pulls back, fumbling with his fly before he can shove his pants off. The second they are off, his fingers are sliding against the growing slick. He presses his fingers against him as Mickey moans. He lets his finger slip inside him, press into him. He adds another, moving them firmly. The sound of Mickey’s gasps and wetness fills the room. 

“You’re so wet,” Ian says. 

“You get me so fucking wet,” Mickey groans. “I love a big cock. Getting fucked by a big fucking cock in my ass.” 

_A_ cock. Not _his._ Just _a._ He shrugs it off, tries to let it go as he pulls his shirt off. 

“You like my ass?” Mickey pants. He pushes back again, and Ian thrusts his fingers in deeper. Mickey pushes back harder, rolling his hips. “You like how wet I get?” 

“Yeah,” Ian says. _A_ cock. He shakes his head again. “Love how wet you get.” 

"Lemme turn over,” Mickey groans. “Wanna see your face. Wanna present.” 

“Present your ass first, omega.” Ian grabs hard at his hips, pulling them higher. A hand races down Mickey’s back and presses down hard on Mickey’s head, fingers lacing in his hair. “That’s it.” 

Mickey moans all the way from his toes. He pushes his ass up higher. Ian gives his hair one more tight squeeze, little pull that’s hard enough to make Mickey give a little “uh!” 

“So fucking perfect,” Ian says, pulling away, hands running all over his back, nails scraping down to his ass, pushed high, glistening. “Spread yourself open for your Alpha.” 

Mickey’s hands fly back behind him and he pulls himself apart. Ian groans before leaning forward. He drags his tongue against him. Again. Again. He circles him, dips in and out. “Fuck you look good,” he murmurs. “Open up wider.” 

Mickey shifts his knees further apart, and his hands pull himself apart harder. He can see the white grip of his fingers. When Ian returns his tongue, Mickey starts to tremble, a high sound rising from the bed. Ian gives him one last swipe of his tongue before swatting him hard on the thigh. Mickey moans. 

“Turn over,” Ian rumbles. “I’m ready to fuck you.” 

Mickey reaches for him the second he rolls on his back. He pushes his legs apart wide and throws his neck aside. 

Ian sucks at his neck and pushes into him in one thrust. They both groan. Ian pulls his lips away and immediately starts fucking into him hard. Pointed. Forceful. 

“Alpha,” Mickey grunts. His eyes roll back. 

_A cock. A._ He shakes his head hard. Forget. Forget it. 

He leans back a little, finding a new rhythm. Deep, smoother, but still hard. Mickey opens his eyes. Bright. Brighter. His breath deepens. He reaches for Ian’s arms and holds on. 

“Feels so good, holy shit,” Mickey says. “Yeah. Gimme that cock. Alpha cock. Knot me. Please. I’m ready.” 

That was fast. Ian can feel Mickey getting wetter, and starting to open wider around him. Ian slides in and almost all the way out before snapping back inside. Mickey’s eyes are glowing. His face is flushed and his mouth is open. 

“Fill me up,” Mickey whispers. “Fill me with your come, Alpha. Knot me. Get that cock deep inside me. More. C’mon, knot. What’re you waiting for. C’mon c’mon.” 

Ian glances down and he can see his cock thrusting in Mickey. Mickey’s fingers grip his forearms tight. He’s trying to push back, trying to get more of Ian inside. 

But Ian doesn’t have more to give. 

He can’t knot. 

Mickey’s face clenches. He’s impatient. “C’mon. Ian. Gimme that cock. Knot me.” 

Ian can’t get the words out. Can’t get any word out. A cock. That cock. Not your cock. Not his cock. Not him. Who is he imagining? Why can’t he just say he wants him? Why won’t Mickey tell him he wants him? His. Not A. Not That. Him. 

Mickey starts to slow. “How come you ain’t talkin’,” he pants. “Usually you’d be fucking me hard and calling me omega and calling me, you know, good. Tellin’ me I’m all yours. Suck my neck. Or whatever.” He glances down. 

“It’s fine,” Ian says quickly, but he can tell Mickey doesn’t believe him. He starts to move again. Slowly. He closes his eyes. 

“Eh,” Mickey says. He claps his hand on Ian’s cheek and Ian’s eyes snap open. “Wake up. What’s up with you?” 

“Nothing,” he says. “I don’t know.” Ian slowly pulls out, and Mickey gives a tiny sound. His legs start shaking. Ian knows he needs something. He knows what will make him feel better. He slides off him, just a little, and reaches for his backpack. He pulls out the bag and pulls out the plug. He slides it carefully into Mickey’s ass. It’s thick and wide. Not as big as his knot, but enough that Mickey will feel better. Mickey shakes when the thickest part breaches him, mouth open. Ian pushes on it, just the slightest bit, before pressing it hard, pressing and pressing, giving and releasing the pressure. He slips down and takes Mickey’s cock in his mouth. It doesn’t take long before Mickey’s back is arching and he comes hard in Ian’s mouth. Ian swallows, guiding it all out of him, working him through it. He presses hard on the plug one more time before pulling off him. 

Mickey is breathing hard and wipes his hands over his face. “Fuck,” he says quietly. “Jesus.” 

Ian can’t say anything. He tastes Mickey–his Mickey–and wants more. He always wants more. He glances down and Mickey is filling up again. Thank god. But he can’t shake it. He can’t shake it. 

Mickey raises his hand up, but hesitates. “Eh,” he says. HIs hand meets the back of Ian’s head and he pulls him closer. “Something’s wrong. What is it.” 

Ian takes a deep breath. “I couldn’t. I couldn't knot. I mean, it wasn’t happening. Even though you said it. Even though you said you wanted me to knot you. It wasn’t happening. Usually it happens when you start to say you want me to. Or when we get to that place. And I feel you opening up.” He swallows. “And I couldn’t.” 

Mickey’s face falls. He shifts his jaw. “What’s that mean?” 

Ian sighs heavily and starts to crawl off Mickey, but Mickey’s strong hand grabs at his leg. “Don’t you fucking move,” Mickey spits. “I asked you a question. What’s that fucking mean? Whaddya mean you can’t.” 

A cock. “I mean that I can’t, Mick. It wasn’t happening. And maybe it’s cause–” he closes his lips around the words that threaten to explode from his mouth. 

But there he is. His omega. His Mickey. His. His eyes dart all over his face. They aren’t bright, but blue just the same. Beautiful. But starting to glaze just a little. A little wet. “Cause what.” 

“It’s,” Ian begins. “Nevermind. Just. It’s stupid.” 

Mickey fights to sit up, so Ian shifts off him. He tries to get off Mickey again, and Mickey lets him this time. He stares into Ian’s eyes. “Fucking tell me.” 

“It’s just that you said you loved _a_ cock.” 

Mickey squints. “The fuck?” 

“You said you loved _a_ fucking big cock. You didn’t say mine. You usually say mine. You usually tell me you want _my_ cock. _My_ Alpha cock. You say you want _me._ Not just some generic mystery cock.” 

Mickey huffs a little laugh. “You serious? What difference does it make if I say it like that, anyways? You know I ain’t fuckin’ anyone else. You know you’re,” he takes a breath. “You know you’re it for me. My Alpha. You know that. I aint fuckin’ any other Alpha.” 

“You did, though,” Ian blurts out. Fuck. Fuck, he’s going there. He can’t help it. Something in him can’t help it. “You fucked other Alphas. Before.” 

There is a silence that hangs there. Just a moment. 

Mickey rubs at his nose. “Can’t believe you fucking said that.” 

“I know,” he says. “I can’t believe it either." 

“What, you never fucked anyone else? Betas?” 

Ian nods. “Yeah.” 

“Omegas?” 

Ian doesn’t answer. 

Mickey huffs a sarcastic laugh. “So you can fuck a bunch of omegas, but I fuck even _one_ Alpha and suddenly you’re jealous? Not like I’m even fucking anyone else now. What difference does it make?” 

Ian doesn’t answer. 

“That’s great,” Mickey says. He pushes at Ian, pushes him hard, and stands up. “So I’m supposed to just deal with _you_ fucking other people before me, but I gotta fuckin’ apologize?” 

Ian shakes his head slowly. “No, I don’t mean you have to apologize. I just need to know you’re not thinking of someone else when I fuck you.” 

Mickey is right there, right in his face. “Get the fuck up.” 

“No.” 

Mickey shakes his head. He reaches behind him and pulls the plug out. He winces. He throws it on the bed. “I said _get the fuck up!”_

Ian sets his jaw. He stands up. “You’re over-reacting.” 

Mickey reaches for his jeans and pulls them on. “Oh, _I’m_ over-reacting? Seriously? You get to be jealous of people I fucked before, but I can’t be? You don’t think _I’m_ jealous? You don’t think I’m jealous you went in a heat with someone?” 

Ian pulls his head back. “I haven’t.” 

“You’re lying.” 

Ian watches Mickey reach for his shirt. “No, I’m not. I didn’t.” 

Mickey stares at him. “Sure you did. You don’t get to be the type of Alpha you are and just sit that whole thing out.” 

“I’m medicated.” 

“So? Don’t matter. You tell me you’d turn down three straight days of fucking someone?” 

Ian’s eyes feel big. He doesn’t feel them pull. They just feel big. “No. I mean, yes I would turn it down. I barely even fucked anyone.” 

It’s quiet. Mickey’s face changes. He doesn’t know how it does, but something all of a sudden doesn’t look right. He looks smaller. He looks angry. Closed. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you doin’ this. What does it matter? It’s not like we even knew. And of course I don’t think about anyone else. I can’t even think of anyone. When we’re fucking. I don’t think about anyone. Alls I can feel is you. See is you. You’re it. Thought you knew that. If you don’t believe that, you’re–” He stops. 

“What. Crazy?” 

Mickey begins to pace. “I can’t fucking help it. Heat. Don’t you know that?” 

“But the medication! It should do that, right? I mean, before you knew about me, didn’t it help you then? Because I thought that–” 

“You don’t know anything, do you? You know _shit_ about omegas. You don’t know _shit._ You never have. You never even ask me. What it’s like for me. You think I wanted to do that? Heat with somebody? You think that’s really what I wanted? Do you have any fucking clue what I had to do to make sure no one fucking found out? I’m lucky someone didn’t fucking kill me.” 

“Who?” 

“Who what? Would kill me? Pick someone. Pick anyone.” 

“No, that’s not what I meant. I meant who. Who’d you go through heat with.” 

Mickey stops pacing. His hands stay on his hips. “No one you know. I went out of town. There’s a place. Motel. Over in Michigan City. Indiana.” 

“So you just go there and what. Wait? Wait for an Alpha?” 

Mickey nods. “I don’t want to fucking talk about this. Grow the fuck up.” 

“Who?” 

“What does it matter? It’s not like you know them.” 

“You keep saying ‘them’ and ‘people.’ Did you go through it with a woman?” 

He shakes his head. “No.” 

Ian rubs his hands on his face and reaches for his clothes. Maybe he should stop this. He should stop this. He doesn’t want to know. He wants to know. He needs to know. 

“Was it the same guy?” 

Mickey hesitates. 

Ian feels cold. He can’t feel his feet. “How many times?” 

“Three. Three heats altogether. But not all the same guy. Okay look, it was the same guy twice, okay? Not like it meant shit.” 

Ian turns toward the bed. His eyes are pulled. His hands curl into fists. It isn’t Mickey. It’s the thought of someone touching him. He can still see the indention in the pillow where Mickey’s head was. The plug is just lying there. 

Oh god. No. Ian turns to face him. “When you took the copper,” he says slowly. His eyes burn. “And you said you were going out of town. That you had to go out of town. Did you. Oh god, Mickey. Did you do it? Please tell me you didn’t–” 

Mickey looks at the floor. He lets out a shaky breath. “You couldn’t stomach it. The copper.” 

Ian feels like he’s been punched. No. No. 

“I could have done something else,” Ian says. He looks at the plug again. “I could have used something. I could have done something. Maybe get something from Elizabeth so I couldn’t feel the copper anymore. I could have taken something. Some drug. Something that Laurel cooked up. Something.” His throat is tight. 

He looks up. There are tears in Mickey’s eyes. “I went somewhere else,” Mickey says. “Not the motel. I didn’t want to do that. I brought all my fuckin’ toys and took a bunch of sleeping pills, tried not to get carried away. I got two days in by myself. It hurts like hell when you’re alone, but whatever. But day three, I couldn’t stand it anymore. And the guy,” he swallows. “The guy tracked me down. Said he could smell me.” 

Ian shakes his head. No. No. “But we were already–we knew who we were to each other.” 

“I wasn’t sure you wanted me after what happened at my house.” 

“Of course I did. And what about the closet at school?” 

Mickey’s voice is tight. “You gotta believe me. It wasn’t anything.” 

Ian lets the tears come. “Why didn’t I see it? Why didn’t I get that? I should have known. I could have done something. Please. You didn’t like it, right?” 

Mickey doesn’t say anything. 

“I mean,” Ian tries again. “You wanted it to me though, right? When you were doing it?” 

Mickey wipes his eyes. “It doesn’t work like that,” he says quietly. 

Ian turns away. Clara has a large, detailed map of Chicago on her wall. Ian tries to pinpoint exactly where his house is. “You liked it.” 

“Yeah,” Mickey says softly. 

He turns slowly. “Is he better than me?” 

Mickey takes a step forward. “No. Of course not.” 

Ian takes a little step toward him. “What did he do? Different, I mean. What did you like that he did that I’m not doing?” 

“Nothing,” Mickey says. “Heat with strangers doesn’t mean shit. I couldn’t stop it. The heat. I tried.” 

“Is his cock as big as mine? Is that what you were talking about earlier?” 

“No.” 

“What about sucking you off? Is he better than–” 

“No.” 

Ian takes a small step forward. Mickey is shivering. The tears have slipped out by now, but he still grits his teeth. “Do you really want this, Mickey? Us?” 

Mickey’s voice cracks. “You know I do. I want you to claim me, Ian. I don’t want anyone else. Not ever. I want you forever, don’t you get that? This doesn’t mean shit. It’s over.” 

Ian finds himself reaching for his hand. He doesn’t know whether to run or stay. He wishes he could somehow absorb Mickey into his body. He wishes they could be that close. Safe. “You promise it’s done?” 

“Yes,” Mickey whispers. “I can’t think about anyone else. Feel like I’m gonna fuckin’ puke. You gotta know I didn’t want it. Not really. I couldn’t stop it. But I didn’t want it. If I could have stayed I would have. I didn’t know. I got freaked out. I should have stayed.” 

“The copper,” Ian says slowly. “I know.” His other hand reaches toward him and settles on his hip. “We didn’t know what to do.” 

Silence fills the room. Ian can hear himself breathing. Can hear Mickey, too. 

“I meant yours,” Mickey says suddenly. “When I was talkin. I meant yours. I want yours. You. Us.” 

“I know,” Ian says quietly. “It’s just...it’s a lot to take in.” He sniffs. He squeezes Mickey’s fingers. Squeezes his hip, too. 

It’ll never happen again. Gotta trust me.” 

Ian brings Mickey’s hand up to his shoulder. He leans close. Closer. His mouth finds Mickey’s. One small kiss. Not rushed. Simple. “Shh,” he whispers against his lips. “It’s done. Stop talking.” 

Mickey kisses him a little harder, but starts to pull away. Ian finds the back of his head and pulls him closer. His eyes pull hard. He feels overwhelmed. Possessive. But not rough. Not like that. He just needs to know that every part of Mickey belongs to him, just like every part of Ian belongs to Mickey. 

Ian walks him toward the bed again, and eases him down. Mickey’s whole body is shaking. Trembling. Ian’s hand races down Mickey’s arm and he laces their fingers together. His thumb rubs against a knuckle. He nudges Mickey’s head to the side. Mickey squeezes his hand. He holds his breath. 

Ian’s lips softly close in at the place where Mickey’s shoulder and neck meet, and slowly–so slowly–begins to drag his lips up Mickey’s neck. The softest press. The fullest kiss. 

“Breathe,” Ian whispers. 

“I can’t,” Mickey sighs. “Feels too good.” 

Ian pulls back, just a little, and finds his lips. He kisses him, soft again, A tiny exploration with his tongue before he pulls back. 

“I’m sorry,” Mickey says. “I didn’t mean it to happen. I–” 

“Shh,” Ian whispers against his lips. “Shh.” 

Mickey’s whole body relaxes with a sigh. His fingers slip into his hair, pulling Ian closer. He gives a little hum. 

Ian reaches behind himself and pulls his shirt off. Mickey’s eyes are right there, staring at Ian’s chest above him, panting. His hands slide up his body, from his stomach up his chest, a little drag over his nipples, all the way up his neck and into his hair again, pulling him down. They kiss. 

When Ian breaks it, he backs up to pull Mickey’s shirt off, then pulls back farther to unzip his pants. His mouth follows, and he kisses Mickey’s hip before he starts sucking a mark. Mickey’s fingers are in his hair and he releases a shaky, quiet moan as Ian takes him in his mouth again. His hand shuffles down and he unzips himself. He pulls off just long enough to shove their pants off. 

“I love you,” Mickey whispers. 

Ian’s mind spins. His hands shake when he meets Mickey’s body again. He slowly kisses his strong, thick thighs. Drags his tongue up his cock before nuzzling his stomach, the softness, the smell of him. 

Mickey’s hands wrap around his shoulders as Ian kisses all the way up his body. His tongue glides against a nipple before he releases and kisses Mickey’s mouth. His beautiful, soft, full mouth. Ian feels the quietest little rumble, just a tiny one, and his hands feel warm. No. Mickey is warm. Hot, even. He is hard under him. Ian can feel wetness on his thigh. Mickey’s wetness. He kisses Mickey a little harder as his legs begin to part wider, inviting Ian to get closer. 

Mickey’s tongue is curling in his mouth, and his hands are everywhere. Ian’s shoulder blades, the base of his neck, his hair, pulling him in closer. His breath shakes in Ian’s mouth. 

It is smooth as anything, the way Ian begins to slide inside him. It feels natural and sacred, the way they begin to move together. 

“I love you, Mickey,” Ian breathes into his mouth. “I love you so much.” 

Because he does. He loves him. They belong to each other, sure. The most base level in each of them have shown them that. But it’s more than that. It’s Mickey. Every part of Mickey. The Mickey he knew, before. The Mickey he can hardly remember, now. No Before, before. Mickey stomping into the house, casually burping, saying “douchebags” as Ian sat doing homework with Mandy. Mickey punching lockers next to kids’ heads. Mickey picking a fight with this person and that person. Word of Mickey breaking into this house and that house. 

Mickey’s voice begins to rise, a little whine, eyes opening bright and wide. 

This is Mickey, right here. Soft and strong at the same time. He doesn’t take any shit, but he is the softest kisser Ian has ever known. 

“Alpha,” Mickey sighs. 

Mickey is his. He is Mickey’s. He doesn’t need to say it, but he does anyway. 

“I’m yours,” Ian whispers. His thrusts are slow. So slow, but so deep. He can feel Mickey starting to open up around him. Just slightly. But it’s there. “I’m yours, Mick. Forever.” 

Mickey’s back begins to arch, and Ian’s hand reaches between them. He gently squeezes the base of Mickey’s cock. He gently tsk-tsks. “Just a minute,” he says. Mickey’s head presses back on the pillow. “Just a sec.” 

Mickey is gasping, big gulps of air. Ian licks up his neck, kisses and nips at his chin, and when Mickey brings his head down, they kiss hard and hungry. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Ian says, and Mickey trembles. Ian begins to thrust a little harder. “Open up for me, omega.” 

Mickey cries out. His legs part wider. Ian knows that Mickey likes his thighs wide open when he fucks him, knots him. Ian presses in harder. Harder. Mickey is so wet. So hot. Ian kisses him hard one more time before puling back. He holds onto Mickey’s thighs, pressing into the flesh, pulling him back on his cock harder. 

Mickey moans, and even though Ian had squeezed him, he comes anyway. “Yeah,” he says as it covers him. “Oh god, knot me. Please, Alpha. Ian.” 

There it is. There he is, widening at his base. He pushes harder, and there is still some resistance. 

“Open up,” Ian rumbles. “Look at me.” 

Mickey opens his eyes and when their eyes meet, Ian can feel Mickey opening wider. But not wide enough. He tries to move faster so Mickey can feel the knot starting to catch. 

“Bite me,” Mickey moans, shaking. “I’ll open up if you bite me.” 

The words are hardly out of his mouth before Ian is growling into his neck. He bites hard. Hard. The give of Mickey’s skin. Mickey is shouting, now. The word “oh” over and over, and it rattles in Ian’s ears and he presses in harder, his neck, his ass, everywhere and Ian pounds and pounds just like the pounding of the pulse in Mickey’s neck. 

Again, again there is a deep gasp as Ian realizes he has to pull his head away. There is a little tear, just the smallest tear, and there’s that feeling of his mouth being stretched wide. His teeth. It’s his teeth. Mickey’s hand flies up to his face and his thumb traces over Ian’s mouth and teeth. “Oh fuuuuuck,” Mickey moans. “Fuck, Alpha. God you’re so big. Fuck me more with your knot, c’mon.” 

Ian was getting ready to lock, but Mickey isn’t ready for that yet. He wants the thick base, the base that stretches him so wide. 

Ian hitches Mickey’s thighs up a bit, pressing on his knees to press them closer to his chest. He wants to see. He wants a good view of his knot fucking into Mickey. He’s proud of how big it is. There is a zinging feeling all over his body. A well of power and pride. 

“What’s it look like,” Mickey moans. “Tell me.” 

Ian swallows fast, but moans just the same. “It’s big,” he says. “It’s like I can hardly fit I’m so big.” 

Mickey moans again, loud enough that Ian is sure everyone can hear them. Let them hear. 

“Your ass is opening up for me,” Ian says. “Still so tight though. Feel fucking amazing. Looks so good to see you take it.” 

"Am I wet enough?” 

Ian growls. His lips stretch a little wider. “Yeah, you’re so fucking wet. I can see how wet you are. Feel it. You’re dripping around my cock.” 

“What about my dick?” 

“Mmm,” Ian hums. He lets go of a leg so he can start to jerk it. “Filled up fast,” he rumbles. “Full of come just waiting for me.” 

“Now,” Mickey moans. “Knot me now.” 

Ian gives one hard thrust, and Mickey screams. It’s a scream, it’s a loud one, and it keeps going and going the longer Ian comes in him. His dick is overflowing in Ian’s hand, and he keeps moving it faster. It isn’t stopping, either. “That’s it, omega,” Ian whispers, gently working Mickey. He shivers as the last of his come fills Mickey’s ass. 

They kiss frantically, like they haven’t kissed in years. His knot is still locked, and a moment later he presses closer again and a small amount releases into Mickey. He reaches down so he can pleasure Mickey again, and he comes again too. 

“My neck,” Mickey pants, and turns to the side. “How’s it look?” 

Deep teeth marks. A tiny tear with a tiny droplet of blood. Ian’s fingers reach up and trace over the marks, wiping the tiny drop away. “It looks pretty intense,” he says. “How’s my mouth?” 

Mickey’s hand reaches up and traces around Ian’s mouth and lips and teeth. “Pretty intense.” 

Ian chuckles. He’s deflated, and he slowly pulls out. 

Mickey gives a little disappointed sound. “Where’s that plug at?” 

Ian pats around the bed before finding it on the floor. He wipes it off quickly and eases it in. He presses on it gently and guides Mickey’s dick into his mouth. He doesn’t have to suck long. 

The warmth of Mickey’s skin is cooling. Ian drapes his body over him as he starts to drag his fingers over his body, whispering all the little words that he does every time, after this. His Alpha whispering everything his omega–his precious, precious omega–wants to hear. 

* 

He tried sleeping next to Mickey for a while, but he couldn’t relax. The more he laid there, the more he started to fidget. He should be exhausted, right? But he wasn’t. Eventually he went downstairs and tried sleeping on the couch in the living room, but his legs are too long, and the couch is overly padded. He kept waking up. For a while he tried lying on the carpet, but that didn’t work either. 

Still, he must have dozed off, because he opens his eyes when he hears someone bouncing down the stairs and humming. Sure enough, it’s Elizabeth. She’s in a bathrobe. Even though they don’t have any food, she opens the fridge and looks inside anyway. He can’t quite make out the tune she’s humming, even when he stands up and starts walking into the kitchen. 

“What are you singing?” 

She jumps hard and puts her hand on her chest. “Jesus, Ian! Oh my god. You scared me.” She closes the fridge. 

“How did I scare you? You didn’t know I was here?” 

She chuckles. “You’re not exactly my focus right now.” She opens the freezer and pulls out the never-ending box of waffles. She crosses over and slips a couple into the toaster. 

He walks over and leans against the counter. “Hey, do you have any meds you could give me?” Ian asks. “I can’t sleep, and I feel a little weird. Can I have some of yours? Are we on the same stuff?” 

Elizabeth hesitates. “No.” 

Ian squints at her. He can’t read her expression. He tries a link, but doesn’t feel anything. “You mean no cause we aren’t on the same stuff? Or no you won’t give me any?” 

She looks away. “I don’t really have any left. Maybe like two." 

He shakes his head. “But can’t you just write me a prescription or something? Call in a refill?” 

“I guess,” she says slowly. “But that might tip someone off to our whereabouts. Maybe we could check with the guys at the clubhouse. They might be able to help. If nothing else, Laurel can fix you something.” 

Laurel with the tea. He shudders as he remembers the taste. 

“Look, she could really help. She’s perfecting alternative treatments. We are incredibly lucky to have her here in Chicago. The other Alpha working on it is way over in London. They connected via The Resistance. Connecting them is one of the riskiest moves we’ve made, but they need each other. They were using a secure phone line, but now only communicate with written letters in the mail. They write in code. I don’t know how they communicate all the new things they discover, but somehow they do it.” 

“What does she do? I mean, how does it work?” 

“We’ve been working on it a long time,” Elizabeth says. “Stepping down with our dosages slowly is the first step. It has to be done slowly, or it can be dangerous. Our Alpha traits became used to being suppressed, so they tend to explode, more or less, when the meds are taken away. All of Laurel’s work, as well as the woman in London–they just call her London– is to aid us in weaning off slowly and then replacing all the government chemicals with plant-based treatments.” 

“Does that really work, though?” 

“I mean, it’s not a perfect practice, especially when someone isn’t working very closely with Laurel or London. Clara tried experimenting with her meds on her own in Minneapolis. You know. When the meds got messed up, and she, you know.” She grits her teeth. 

Ian blinks fast, hard. He can feel a sting. Heat. Mickey’s heat. Clara's heat. 

“We just talked about it,” he says quietly. “Upstairs.” 

The waffles pop up and she turns away. “Talked about what?” She reaches for a knife and starts to butter the waffles. 

Her bathrobe is silky and has peacocks on it, They have little red berries in their mouths. “Talked about Mickey’s heats. Before. Before me, I mean.” 

She stops buttering and puts the knife down. She doesn’t turn. She doesn’t say anything. 

“It sucked,” he says. “It hurt, you know, but there’s nothing I can do about it now, right? I mean, what about you? What did you do? Cause you seem okay with it.” 

She rumbles. “I’m not okay with it.” 

Ian opens and closes his mouth. “But you talked about it, right? About what happened? Because you seem–” 

“Look,” she says, voice firm. She turns to face him. “I don’t want to talk about this, okay? Off limits.” 

“But did she tell you? She told you, right? About Jo?” 

Her eyes pull harder. Suddenly she reaches for him and pushes him harder against the counter. “Stop it. Just drop it.” 

“Ow! What the fuck?” He pushes off the counter and walks over by the fridge. He shakes his head before he looks at her again. She turns away again and starts buttering. 

“Did she tell you right away? I mean, how did you find out? Because I know you found out. I could almost feel it. But it seemed like you started having sex right away, so–” 

She throws the knife into the sink. It clatters. “Yeah, she told me, okay? But she barely even had to. I could already feel it. I could feel it off you. I could see when you were talking to...her. See and feel it all the way from my bed in Chicago where I couldn't fucking move. Where I couldn't do fucking anything!" She's growling a low growl. "Fucking anything. Just had to sit there. Listening. Taking it. Not able to do fucking anything. So yeah, I knew. She tried to talk about it, but I did the same as you. I pretended I didn’t care.” 

“Hey,” he says quietly. He reaches for her hand, but she yanks it away. 

“Don’t fucking touch me.” 

He puts his hands up like surrender. “Okay. Okay, shh. It’s okay.” 

A sarcastic laugh. “It’s _not_ okay. But like you said, it’s over. I know it wasn’t malicious. In a heat, and with the proximity, and the connection of friendship already, it was bound to happen. With her. But it’s over. And my Alpha will catch up eventually.” Her mouth twists. “I guess you're not like me after all.” 

Ian huffs. “What the fuck does _that_ mean?” 

She crosses her arms. “I thought you were strong. If you were strong, this would still bug you.” 

“Are you serious? Of course it still bugs me. But there's nothing I can do. I-” 

“I mean, don’t you just hate them? Those guys? Don’t you want to hunt them down? Or don’t you just want to know what they did differently? To Mickey? What Mickey liked about-" 

“Shut up,” Ian snaps. “How dare you. Why can’t you be a grown up? Are you saying that the whole time you’re with her, you’re mad at her?” 

She shakes her head, incredulous, eyes wild. “Oh my _god_! Shut up! Of course I’m not fucking mad at her! Why would I be mad at her?” 

“You’re not even making sense! What, so your Alpha is mad that–” 

“My Alpha is mad at _her_ , not Clara. She touched what’s mine. And not only that, she wasn’t kind to her. And not only _that,_ she made Clara upset when you were leaving. And I can’t let that shit slide. Part of me wants to go there and rip her to shreds. Like literally go and-” 

“What’s wrong with you?” Ian says quietly. “You seem like you’re–” 

“I seem like I’m what, Ian.” Her voice is weary. “Jealous?” 

He nods slowly. 

“Well, I’m not,” she says. “And I don’t even think about it when I’m with Clara. It doesn’t matter at all when I'm with her. It’s only when I think about _her_. About how she hurt Clara. How she said those things when you were leaving. When she talked about her like a thing. No one gets to hurt Clara. I will fight anyone who gets close. Including her.” 

He takes a step forward. “Who, Jo?” 

“I'm warning you.” She pushes him back. “Don’t say her fucking name.” 

Ian sets his jaw. “Jo.” 

Ian swears they are flying, because one second they are standing in the kitchen and the next she has him pressed up against the wall in the next room. It takes him a moment to realize his feet aren’t even touching the floor. She’s holding him up with one hand twisted in his shirt. His eyes widen. 

“I told you not to say her fucking name,” Elizabeth growls. She grits her teeth and Ian could swear they are wider. “I told you I never wanted to talk about her. I told you this was off limits.” 

“Stop,” he says, nice and loud, his own eyes pulling. “Don’t do this. You’re freaking out. It’s over, okay? Just let it go. You have to.” 

“No,” she snaps, and her hand tightens again. “Shut up.” 

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. 

She doesn't let go. 

Her heavy breathing begins to even out. She gives one more little rumble. She shakes her head slowly, blinks. Her eyes begin to go back to normal. She slowly, so slowly, begins to loosen her grip on Ian’s shirt, and he slides back down, feet touching the floor. 

She is breathing hard. Shaking her head. “Oh my god, Ian,” she whispers. Her eyes look like a little teary. “I didn’t mean–I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened.” 

He reaches for her. “Hey hey hey, c’mere. Breathe.” 

But she doesn't go to him. She shakes her head, eyes teary and wide. “This is crazy. It’s not even in my mind most of the time. Definitely not when I’m with her. I’m over it. I really am, I promise. I just couldn’t–I just couldn’t stop. Just now, Ian. I couldn't stop. I couldn't stop! I don’t know what’s wrong. I don’t know what’s–” 

She rubs her hand over her hair and begins to pace. “Maybe I,” she begins. She swallows hard "Maybe I should take my meds after all. Should I?” 

He nods slowly. “I don’t know.” 

“Ian, what’s wrong with me? Am I okay? I’m not really going to hurt her, am I? The...Jo?” 

“No,” he says. “No, I know you won’t.”

“How do you know?” 

“Because you wouldn’t do that,” he says kindly. 

“Really?” Her voice is small. He nods. “Do you feel like that? Like you want to hunt those guys down?” 

Ian feels the pull in his eyes but he blinks and the tighten again. “This is just Alpha reaction, okay? We’re better than this. It’s biology, right? It’s just biology. Don’t let it fuck with you. It’s only you and Clara now. Just like it's only me and Mickey. It’s over. It doesn’t matter.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” she says quietly, like she is convincing herself. Her eyes are wide, not pulled, not stormy, just full as moons and just as pale. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter. Not at all.” 

He nods. “Not at all, okay?” 

She reaches for his hand, and he takes it. She gives it a little squeeze before she goes to pick up the plate by the toaster. She is almost at the base of the stairs again when she turns. 

“I never want to talk about this again,” she says. “I mean it. Never again. Got it?” 

He nods slowly. “Got it,” he says. “I got it.” 

“Good,” she says. 

He’s about to say something, about to apologize, but she heads up without another word.

He stands there. He doesn’t know what to do. 

_”Hey.”_

He turns and Phoebe is spread out on the little couch in the office. She has a book in her hands and earbuds in her ears. 

“Hey,” Ian says. He doesn’t move. 

_”Don’t just stand there. Come in. I wanna apologize for how rough I was at the end, there.”_

“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for.” 

_”Still.”_ She sits up and pats the couch. 

Ian taps his ear. “What’re you listening to?” 

_”Otis Redding. He’s my favorite.”_

He can hear music spilling out from the headphones. It’s turned up so loud he can hear the words. 

“Are you going to listen to that the whole time? I mean, can you hear me?”

 _“Of course I can hear you. I can hear you even when you’re not linking directly. I can hear everything. There’s a reason why they’re this loud. If I concentrate enough, I can shut it out. So there’s this, and then this.”_ She holds up the book and shakes it back and forth. _“Do you have any idea how dry this is? Academia wank? It might as well be a textbook.”_

“Not a bestseller then?” 

_”Not exactly.”_ She pulls the earbuds out and turns the cover so he can see it. _”Secondary Infertility, Pseudocyesis, Ovarian Dysfunction and the Rise of Intrauterine Growth Restriction: A Dynamic Dialectical Approach.”_

“Sounds fascinating. Are there nice vagina photos or anything at least?” 

_“Sadly, no.”_ She tosses the book to the floor. _“Three guesses who wrote it.”_

“Of course he did,” he mumbles. He picks the book up and pages through it. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for. Maybe a clue. He flips to the back page. There he is again. His photo, eyes almost boring into Ian. The power of him reaching through ink and pulp. He closes the book, tries to close him in. 

_”What are you worried about? I’m not going to hurt you. I promise. And there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You know, with you and Mickey. Hearing stuff. I can hear almost anyone if I try hard enough. I’m used to blocking. It’s only harder here because we’re so close. And emotions are really high. And the intensity of, you know, what you guys are doing. All of you."_

Ian swallows. Her eyes are dark, and she smells like sandalwood. Her deep black hair is pulled away from her face. She flew over the walls like a bird, Elizabeth said. 

She laughs, picking it up. _”That’s why I laughed during my evaluation. Because I heard Elizabeth think it. I wanted to stop and tell her. But I knew she didn’t want to have anything to do with me.”_

“It wasn’t you,” he says. “She was just hurting. Cause of Clara.” 

She nods. _“I know.”_

“And she was jealous. Of you. And.” He snaps his mouth shut. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have–” 

She reaches out for his hand. It’s warm and soft. He feels a buzzing when they touch. She is his. He knows this, in an instant. And he’s hers. Pack. “Hold my other hand too,” she says, so Ian does. 

“What are we–” 

_“Just stop concentrating.”_

“What do you mean?” 

_“Just stop thinking. Stop thinking about Mickey and Elizabeth and Clara and this house and everything outside it. Just let your mind go blank and I’ll show you.”_

“Show me what?” 

_“Uh-oh._ She lets go of his hands and gestures to the ceiling. _“This isn't gonna work with this going on. Hang on.”_

Suddenly, there’s a deep, shuddery moan that almost rattles the ceiling. There are words, but he can’t hear them. It’s both of them. Moaning. Faster. Faster words. One of them pitching higher and higher and higher still. Suddenly there’s a wild, loud growl, and a banging sound, and then that high sound again.

Ian squints at the ceiling. “Where the hell are they?” 

“I don’t know. The bathroom maybe? She has her on some sort of table. A sink. Or maybe a dresser. I don’t know exactly. That’s what the bang was.” 

“Wait wait wait. You can _see_ them?” 

She shakes her head. _“Oh no. I can’t see it like a movie. I can usually hear things if I concentrate, but I can’t see anything. Bodies or anything. But sometimes I will get a flash of some detail. Not them having sex, but just a generic image–like almost like a cartoon drawing. Some detail on a headboard. A curtain. The pattern of carpet or the grain of a wood floor. This time it was a table. The things I see aren’t anything having to do with bodies. Like, even though I could hear you and Mickey, or even would be able to hear what you said, I could never see what your penis looks like, for example.”_

Ian shifts. “Why does it happen? Like, how can you do that? What is it for? On a biological or evolutionary level? The talent, I mean. Your superpower.” 

_“My superpower?"_ She snorts. 

“I'm serious! Is it just sex stuff?”

_“Sometimes if someone is mad I can do the same thing. Like really, really mad. I can even see color, sometimes. Like colors instead of true visual images._

“Oh god!” Loud and clear as day. Then another bang. It sounds like they moved.

“Are you okay? Like, is it hard to listen to women-” 

She shakes her head. No. But she looks away. _“Are there other rooms up there? I know they aren’t in their room anymore. What else is up there?”_

“I don’t know. There’s a door that's closed up there, I don’t know what it is. Over to the left. 

_“That’s it then. They’re right above us.”_ She points to the ceiling. She blinks her eyes, and they are pulled just a little bit. _“Oh man, it’s gonna get loud. Like really, really loud. Do you want to go outside or something? I feel like I need some air.”_

“What about Mickey? Won’t he wake up?” 

She shakes her head. _“Probably not. You’ve been overlapping sounds and you don’t seem to even notice.”_

There’s another bang, and then a scream. Clara. Clara screaming “oh god oh god oh god oh god yeah yeah yeah there!” A loud growl that feels like it vibrates against the walls. It feels like the sound is falling on top of their heads. Ian keeps having an image of the ceiling collapsing. Then, suddenly, everything stops. Completely quiet. 

Ian winces. “Jesus. Were we like that?” 

She shakes her head, just a little. _“I mean, vocal-wise, pretty much. But this thing with them? It’s gonna get…”_ pauses. Regroups. _“They’re going to get wilder. More intense. Reconnecting and getting closer to claiming.”_

“Seriously?” 

_"I'm worried we're not okay here. Like, with Clara's dad? I feel like something is going to happen. And Elizabeth and Clara? If they’re getting close to claiming, we can’t let anyone interrupt them. It can be dangerous.”_

“Wait, what do you mean? What you mean, dangerous?” 

She doesn’t say anything. Her eyes don’t move. There’s a soft noise, upstairs, but nothing more. _“They’re on the floor now. They're done. But let’s go rest our ears. Could be a long day. Come on.”_

It’s cold outside, there on the deck next to the shovel, but they found boots in the closet, so it could be worse. The snow has drifted up against the door, so they take turns kicking it away. 

“What did you mean in there,” he says. “When you said interrupting Elizabeth and Clara could be dangerous?” 

_"When you're in that space? It's beyond both of you. You are operating on this whole other level, and if it gets interrupted, someone could get hurt. Hurt really, really bad. And we can't risk that. Not with all of us. Who we are to each other."_

"Like, pack? Wait. What do you mean all of us?"

She looks at him for a long time. _”You don’t know? What you are? What we are?"_

He sees his breath. “I don’t understand.” 

Her eyes are a little wider. _”I thought you were just good at hiding it in your link. Like you couldn’t trust me yet or something. But you really don’t know, do you? Adam said that he was pretty sure you were the last piece of the puzzle. He said that he knew it when they took you in the ambulance. He could feel it.”_

He shakes his head with wide eyes. 

She turns more toward him and takes his hands, shoves them into her pockets so their hands can touch. _“Try. Try and let your mind go blank.”_

“What?” 

_”Let your mind go blank.”_

“Like a color? Or cement? That's what Elizabeth taught me when they were trying to scrape me at the clinic.”

_“No, honey, that's blocking. This is different. It's more like, I don't know, floating. Meditation. It’s more color and emotion than specifics. That’s why it’s been hard for the Seers to find us.”_

“Wait-wait-wait. Seers?” 

_”All over the world. India, Thailand, New Zealand, Nigeria, a bunch of other places. Everywhere. The most powerful Seer is in Alaska. She’s the one that saw us first.”_

“Saw us when?” 

_”When we Revealed. To Seers, we are not born until we Reveal."_

Ian opens his mouth to ask another question, but he hears laughing in the kitchen. He turns to see Mickey, Elizabeth and Clara walking toward the kitchen table. He squints. Phoebe gets his attention again with a squeeze of her hands. 

_”Please. You have to listen. If we can’t connect my way, you just have to listen. Listen, and trust me, okay?”_

"Wait, so you’re a Seer? Like, if you can do all that–”

She nods. _”I’m a young one. I’m starting to flex the muscles. My mentor London wants me to come to her. She'll take all of us after it's all over. Or she'll find us somewhere else. But she won't tell us where yet. Says we aren’t ready.”_

“Not ready for what?” 

There's something on the table. It’s flour. Flour spread all over the table. He can see it on Mickey’s sweater. He’s smiling. He looks calm. Happy. 

_”We aren’t ready to do what we have to do. With the Resistance. And I’m worried about Elizabeth. London sent me a vision of Elizabeth’s energy. That’s how I found you. She told me she’s starting to blur around the edges. Lose her center of gravity. At first I thought it was because she was with Clara again and that was her main focus. That was the cause of the variation, which would make a lot of sense. So I wasn’t worried about it. But then I heard the two of you talking in the kitchen, and I don’t know.”_

She’s smiling in there. Trying to get Mickey to dance. He pushes her off with a laugh, so she goes right back in. “She’s okay,” Ian says sternly. “She’s just been through a lot.” 

_”Laurel said she was talking in her sleep. She was using our language. The Seers language.”_

He remembers. At the Clubhouse. “So?”

Clara jumps up from her chair and sprinkles flour in the air. Elizabeth grabs her from behind and playfully kisses her neck. Mickey is laughing again. 

_”So she doesn’t know that language. And we don’t know what’s happening to her. We’re worried that somehow she’s being torn into pieces. That somehow they are getting into her head, scrambling things up, or they put something inside her at the hospital. London was in contact with Alaska, and Alaska said that the second time Elizabeth was in the hospital, her energy changed. And Elizabeth was unconscious more than she remembers. Elizabeth thinks she was alert the whole time. She wasn't."_

"What do they mean? What do you mean, torn to pieces?" 

_"They are trying to fragment her. Make sure she loses that center of gravity until she doesn't know where she is anymore. We think she might be on enhancers and doesn’t know it.”_

"But she's a doctor. How could she not know?"

 _"I can’t answer that. I don’t know. Laurel confirmed the same thing London saw. She could feel it, too. Laurel is also in training. She’s not all potions and teas. But they go together. Between the two, we will figure out how to stop all this. All the drugs they give us. We don’t know what they’re putting into us. But I haven’t had any prescription meds since Violet died. London found my alternative mix. It’s working. And it could work for all of us if we’re in this together.”_

“Eh,” Mickey says, opening the sliding glass door. “We’re tryin to make bread. Not doin’ too hot. Get the fuck in here.” 

“Just a sec,” Ian says. 

He squeezes Phoebe’s hand. “Don’t just say shit about her. Tell her.” 

_"But Ian, she’s not–”_

“You don’t get to say if she’s ready or not.” He leans over and knocks on the window. He points at Elizabeth and nods when she gestures to herself. 

“If something happened to her, you need to tell her. You can’t just hide it.” 

She slides the door open wearing a big coat. “What’s up, guys? I only found shoes. Keep it short.” 

Ian pulls his hands out of Phoebe’s pockets. “Phoebe is saying that something might be wrong with you. Your meds. That maybe you’re secretly on enhancers and don’t know it.” 

He expects Elizabeth to jump down Phoebe’s throat, but she doesn’t. She just stands there. Her eyes get wet and Ian isn’t sure if it’s tears or the cold at first. 

She stares at Ian, and then stares at Phoebe. 

“It’s true,” she says to Phoebe. “Isn’t it.” 

Phoebe nods. 

"They must be weak,” Elizabeth says quickly, trying so hard to convince herself. “I don’t feel any different. They're trying to make sure I don't feel the changes. They must have replaced one of my other medications with it. Change the chemical makeup, making it something different entirely, but make it look completely identical." 

Ian shakes his head. “No. There’s no way it’s true, “You aren’t like him. Clara’s dad. The way he was? How you were saying he might be on enhancers and that’s why he was so powerful and so–” 

“They would work their way up to that,” Elizabeth says quietly. “Every refill I’d have a little bit more. A little bit more. Before I know it, I’m theirs. The Institute’s. And then I’m just gone.” She covers her face. “Fuck. Fuck.” 

Ian turns to Phoebe. “Is that why she did that to me? When we were talking? Because it was like she made us fly all the way-" 

“I don’t want to talk about that,” she snaps. “Please, it just makes me feel like I’m going to kill somebody.” 

They sit in the weighted silence. Ian glances over to Phoebe, and looks at Elizabeth as the realization hits her. 

“I could,” she says. She’s crying. “I could. I could kill somebody. They’re making it so I could kill somebody.” 

Phoebe reaches for her arm. _”It’s still early. You’re right. The meds probably aren’t that strong yet. And going off your meds cold-turkey probably just made it worse. The sudden withdrawl. Let me take care of you. Both of you. I was telling Ian that my alternative treatment is working. And if it’s working for me, it might work for you guys. Because Elizabeth? You were right, in the ambulance.”_

Elizabeth wipes at her eyes. “In the ambulance? When–” 

“The clinic,” Ian says. “When you got me from the clinic.” 

Her mouth hangs open as she stares at Phoebe. “How sure are you?” 

_“Alaska.”_

Ian can hear the wind in the trees. 

“Oh my god,” Elizabeth breathes. “Ian.” 

“What,” he says. “Please, just tell me.” 

“God, it all makes sense now,” she whispers. She turns slowly. “Ian, don’t you see? We were all chosen for this. We just had to wait until we all came together. And the rest of them are supposed to help us. Mickey? Clara? Laurel? That’s why he said all those things. Clara’s dad. Because he’s trying to make sure it doesn’t happen. Because he doesn’t want her to be part of this. And he knows she has to be. That she wants to be. That she has power, and this is how she will use it. And Mickey has power, too. We just need to figure out what.” She turns attention to Phoebe again. “How long do we have before they find us?” 

She looks around for a second before turning back. _“Not long.”_

“Tell me,” Ian says. “What the fuck is going on?” 

Elizabeth reaches for Phoebe’s hand. Reaches for Ian’s hand. “We’re going to shut it down.” 

“Shut what down?” 

“The Institute. They have a secret. A secret that will change everything. And we’re going to find it.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hang in there. This was an Alpha-heavy chapter, but things will shift next chapter. Thank you for your patience.


	10. A Real Omega

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey teaches Ian a thing or two about being an omega.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear friends, I apologize for the long wait. I also want to say that I have already written several scenes for the next chapter, so hopefully I will get that one up asap. 
> 
> I also made a very small adjustment. When I introduced Phoebe back at the end of Chapter 8, I had her say a couple of sentences through her link with Elizabeth. I chose to delete those speaking lines altogether. She just doesn't talk. That's who she is, bless her.

“God, it all makes sense now,” Elizabeth whispers. She turns slowly. “Ian, don’t you see? We were all chosen for this. We just had to wait until we all came together. And the rest of them are supposed to help us. Mickey? Clara? Laurel? That’s why he said all those things. Clara’s dad. Because he’s trying to make sure it doesn’t happen. Because he doesn’t want her to be part of this. And he knows she has to be. That she wants to be. That she has power, and this is how she will use it. And Mickey has power, too. We just need to figure out what.” She turns attention to Phoebe again. “How long do we have before they find us?”

She looks around for a second before turning back. “Not long.”

“Tell me,” Ian says. “What the fuck is going on?”

Elizabeth reaches for Phoebe’s hand. Reaches for Ian’s hand. “We’re going to shut it down.”

“Shut what down?”

“The Institute. They have a secret. A secret that will change everything. And we’re going to find it.”

 _”How?”_ Phoebe shakes her head slowly. _”How could we possibly figure out how to get in without being caught?”_

“Maybe we don’t have to go in,” Ian says. “There’s gotta be another way.” 

“There’s not,” Elizabeth sighs. “We gotta find a way in.” 

They look at each other. Phoebe takes a deep breath, but then closes her mouth. _”You’re the only one that has the clearance to do that. Maybe if you could get access to another floor or building or something you could–”_

“They have to be very suspicious of her now,” Ian says. He turns to Elizabeth. “Do you even feel safe going in?” 

Elizabeth shrugs. “I don’t have much choice,” she says. “But I’m going to sneak in a blood draw. Check my medication and Alpha hormone levels. Maybe if I can sneak into the chem lab I can test my meds. See what they changed.” 

“Draw your own blood?” 

She nods. “I suppose I could have Adam do it. But he’s done enough for us already.” 

Ian shifts his feet. He can feel the snow grabbing his ankles. He shivers. “What’s up with him anyway? He doesn’t feel like pack. But you seem to trust him a lot. How do you know it won’t backfire?” 

Elizabeth pauses. “I guess I don’t know that for sure,” she says. “But he’s always been there for me. And he’s strong. If I could force him into our pack I probably would.”  


Ian glances at Phoebe to see if she feels the same defensiveness that is rising in him. She clenches her teeth. 

“Oh stop,” Elizabeth mutters. “It’s fine. Anyway, it doesn’t work like that. But I’m telling you we can trust him.” 

_”Is he a Caretaker?”_ Phoebe asks. _”Like, a registered one?”_

Elizabeth sighs and shrugs. “Not documented, no. But I think he leans in that direction.” She turns to Ian and sees his confused face. “Remember? In your book? It’s a support person for Alphas. Even though they are Alphas themselves, that is their role. Their bent on their Alpha. Kind of like Phoebe being a Seer.” 

“What am I?” Ian says. “What are you?” 

Elizabeth pauses again. “I’m not sure. You usually can’t tell what you are. Someone else has to tell you. Or you aren’t sure what you are until you are tested. So I’m not sure what we are.” 

_”I do,”_ Phoebe says. 

They look at her, waiting. 

“What?” Ian says. “What are we?” 

Phoebe opens her mouth, but then closes it again. _“You’re–”_

Bang bang bang. 

They turn, and then Mickey is opening the sliding glass door. 

“Quit fucking around,” he snaps. His eyes are hard. “Need to talk to you.” 

Ian starts walking toward him, but Mickey cuts him off. 

“All three of you.” 

Clara is sitting in the living room with her back to them. She doesn’t turn around. 

“Hey,” Elizabeth says gently. 

She still doesn’t turn. 

Ian is the first to sit down. He sits on the couch opposite Clara. She is staring at her hands. She almost looks like she’s vibrating. Ian clenches his eyes shut and opens them again, and sure enough, he can see the faint edge of a shaky blur around her. 

_”That’s her omega rage response.”_ Phoebe sits next to him, shoulder to shoulder. _”I can see it too. It must look awful to Elizabeth. Look at her face.”_

It’s true. Elizabeth’s face goes slack when she walks closer. She is about to sit next to her but Clara holds her hand up. 

“No.” 

Elizabeth’s head bows deeply. She keeps getting closer and closer to the floor before she kneels right in front of her, then sits back on her heels. He doesn’t think it’s possible, but her head dips lower and lower. She is lowering her head to the ground until she rests her head against the floor. She does not move. 

Ian mouth opens. He chances a glance at Mickey, who is leaning against the wall. Mickey stares wide-eyed at Elizabeth on the floor, then back over to Ian. He can see his teeth clench. He does not see any vibration. He doesn’t know what that means. 

_”He either doesn’t do it or his body doesn’t respond that way. Maybe it’s just because of the longer history with Elizabeth and Clara. You’ll find his response at some point, unfortunately.”_

He looks over at Phoebe and links her. _“What did Violet do?”_

He feels a block. A gentle block, but a block just the same. 

“That,” Mickey snaps. “You all need to stop fucking doing that. Linking. You’re keeping us outta this on purpose. It’s not for fucking safety. You’re being assholes.” 

Ian feels his head bow. 

“Look at me,” Mickey says. “Don’t fucking do that.” 

It feels hard to do, like there’s a hand on the back of his neck, but Ian looks at him. 

“We need to know what she’s saying,” Clara says. She doesn’t look at Phoebe when she says it. “Something is changing with you guys. We know you’re not telling us everything. You need to tell us. Everything.” 

Elizabeth doesn’t budge off the floor. There is still the vibration around Clara, but it’s starting to slow down. 

He hears a little sniff from Phoebe. She is getting a little teary. Ian reaches over for her hand. 

“It isn’t her fault,” he says gently. “She isn’t doing it on purpose. She can’t talk anymore.” 

Mickey squints. “Can’t or won’t?”

“Mickey,” Ian says softly. “She can’t. Something happened. Something bad. And after it she couldn’t talk anymore.” 

“What do you think?” Mickey turns to Clara. “This true?” 

The vibration around Clara is gone. She glances down at Elizabeth on the floor. “That’s enough,” Clara says firmly, eyes cast down on Elizabeth’s prostrated body. Elizabeth pulls her head up slowly, raising her upper body from the floor, but doesn’t move from her hands and knees. “Here,” Clara says. Ian can feel the even control in her voice. She pats her lap, and Elizabeth moves the last few inches and puts her head on her lap. Clara doesn’t move her hand or anything. Ian finds it hard to look away. 

When he looks at Mickey again, he catches him looking at Elizabeth’s deep submission. He bites at his lip as he glances over at Ian. 

Finally, slowly, Clara raises her hand and pets Elizabeth’s hair. “It’s true,” she says. She looks at Phoebe, kind eyes and soft voice. “It’s true, isn’t it? It was bad. Bad enough you stopped talking.” 

She nods. She looks over at Ian. _“Tell them.”_

“Are you sure?” 

She looks at her hands. _”Yes. I’m sure.”_

“Does Elizabeth know?” Ian asks. 

“Okay,” Clara says quietly. “That’s enough.” She pats Elizabeth on the shoulder, and she raises her head and looks at her. “You can speak, Alpha.” 

“I know some of it,” Elizabeth says quietly. She only looks at Clara. “Through the link when we were sitting at the table. But it was fuzzy.” 

“Look at them,” Clara says softly. Elizabeth finally turns. She looks nervous, ashamed almost.

Ian looks over at Phoebe one more time before he begins. He says everything from the first look in the hall all the way to the end, when Phoebe blocked him and said she didn’t want to talk about her death. He watches their eyes go wide. He glances sideways and can see Phoebe rubbing her fingers on her jeans. When he finishes, he reaches for her hand. “So that’s why,” he says. “And we just gotta work with it.” 

She squeezes his hand. _”Ask if they want me to write things down.”_

“She wants to know if you want her to write things down for you.”

“It’s okay,” Clara says quietly. “I mean, Mickey, are you okay? Like, are we okay with having Elizabeth and Ian translate?” 

He nods. “Yeah, sure.” He shifts his jaw. “I mean, yeah, that’s okay with me if it’s okay with her.” 

Phoebe gives a tiny nod. Her words come quickly, and Ian is about to relay them when Elizabeth begins to talk for her. 

“She says she’s sorry. She really wishes she could. It’s just too hard. Like, she used to stutter and all of that, but now she can’t do it at all. She’s tried.” 

“It’s okay,” Clara says. “Really, it’s okay.” 

“And she says she understands why you’re mad,” Ian continues. Then he shoots her a look with a raised eyebrow but a nod. “And she says we haven’t been fair to you. We have tried to shield you from the negative things and the dangerous things, and she knows that’s not fair. She says all that stops right now.” 

“She is too nice to say it’s my fault,” Elizabeth says quietly. “But I’ve been trying so hard to keep us safe. And then there are the meds. That’s something you have to know. They’ve been drugging me. I mean, they’ve been changing the chemical makeup of the meds I take but make it look like the same pills. I got aggressive with Ian. Even when pack Alphas fight, it’s not that intense. So I’m going off them for good. All of them. I’ll talk to Laurel about alternatives and get it sorted out.” 

Clara hesitates before speaking. “Isn’t that risky?” 

A deep breath. “It’s gotta be better than the other option.” 

Ian turns to Phoebe. “Can I tell her about what you said? About the other hospitalization?” 

She nods slowly. 

“Elizabeth,” he starts. “The Seers sent Phoebe because they saw something. It’s about the hospital. The second time. They said you weren’t as alert as you thought. You thought you were awake more than you actually were. The Seers sensed something changed with your energy. Maybe it was as simple as the meds, but there might be something else.” 

The words rush out of Phoebe fast. _”Wait. I know.”_

His eyes widen. “She says she knows,” he says, but Phoebe’s is already linking faster. 

Elizabeth shakes her head. 

Mickey sits down. “What is it? What she sayin’?”

“Are you sure?” Ian leans closer. 

Phoebe nods and gestures toward Mickey and Clara. 

Ian begins, brow furrowed. “She says they put something in Elizabeth.” 

“No they didn’t,” Elizabeth says. “How the hell would they do that without my knowing?” 

_”At the hospital._ ”

“At the hospital,” Ian says. “They did something to you at the hospital the second time.” 

Elizabeth shakes her head. “I would have known. I would have felt it. They can’t just put something in your body without you knowing it.” 

Clara reaches her hand over and glides her fingers on the back of Elizabeth’s neck. 

“Here,” she says. “When I was kissing the back of your neck I thought I felt something. Two somethings.” She finds the place on her neck. “Here. Here’s one.” 

“Let me touch it,” Mickey says quickly, and he does. Elizabeth is breathing hard. “Can I press on it?” 

“Okay,” she says, just the tiniest edge of panic. 

Mickey squints. “Feel anything?” 

She shakes her head. 

Mickey looks at Clara. “You’re right. It’s somethin’.” 

“Take your shirt off,” Clara says, nudging her. 

Elizabeth hesitates. “I don’t have a bra on.” 

“It’s fine,” Ian says, catching Mickey’s eyes. “We don’t care.” 

“You can cross your arms anyway,” Clara says. “It’s on your back.” 

Elizabeth’s eyes are wide. She eases her arms out of the sweater and nods at Clara. She slides it off and bunches it up against her breasts. “Clara, I’m scared.” 

The admission brings sudden tears to Ian’s eyes. He swallows. 

“It’s just…” Clara begins. “Hang on.” She starts to press around on her back, mumbling in concentration. “It was when I was kissing all the way down last night. It was pretty dark. I’m trying to remember exactly when I felt it. My head was swimmy.” 

Elizabeth cracks a small smile through her anxious eyes. Clara drags both hands down Elizabeth’s back slowly, starting at her neck. 

“Wait,” Clara says. She reaches for Elizabeth’s hip. “Wait, it’s here. Between your hip and your spine.” She presses. 

“Ow!” Elizabeth yelps. “No. That’s my kidney.” 

Mickey leans over. “Wait a second. Where do you think it is? Lemme touch it.” 

He starts to press around. 

“Maybe I’m wrong,” Clara says. “I swear I could feel something.” 

“Other side,” Mickey says. “I feel like it’s over there. Try it.” 

Clara starts over again, fingers dancing slowly down as Elizabeth clenches her arms tighter around herself, goosebumps rising. 

“It’s there,” Mickey says. “There, back up. Press there.” 

She does, and it’s obvious she found it with the way her head quickly snaps up. “He’s right. It’s right there.” 

“You didn’t even touch it,” Ian says, eyes wide. “How could you possibly know?” 

Mickey shrugs. “I don’t know. Just did. Could see it. I thought hard about what they’d put in there and then it was like it just popped into my head. I can see it right  
now. It’s in there. It’s some sort of metal. Almost like a bullet.” 

“Why is it there?” Elizabeth breathes. “Can you see it?” 

Mickey shuts his eyes tight. “I don’t know. But I know what the neck one is for. I mean, I think so.” 

_”He’s right,”_ Phoebe says quickly. 

“She says you’re right,” Ian says. “What is it?” 

“Tracking device probably. Got other stuff on it too. I’m not sure what else.” 

Ian crosses over to press on Elizabeth’s neck. “What does it look like?” 

Mickey closes his eyes in concentration. “I’m not sure, but I know what the machine looks like. The machine that made it. Then I can see the one that put it inside her. They’re going to take it out again, but I don’t know why. An’ I don’t know where they are going to put it.” 

_”I know what he is,”_ Phoebe says quickly. _”Mickey._ ”

“A Seer?” Ian says, eyes wide. 

“Seeing what?” Mickey says. “No, give me your hand, I’ll show you where it is.” 

Ian lets him move his fingers, and he keeps looking at Phoebe. “What is he?” 

Phoebe smiles. _“He’s a Collector.”_

“A Collector!” Elizabeth gasps. “That’s what he is?” 

Mickey presses Ian’s fingers against Elizabeth’s neck. He can feel the smallest deviation beneath her skin, more inside her muscle than anything. “Collector? The fuck does that mean?” 

Ian looks over at Phoebe. She is smiling, almost content. “She says everyone in pack has a special talent that makes us all work well together. You’re a Collector. She says that it’s kind of like seeing things, sensing how things are built, bringing all the information together. Like, you can quickly know the layout of something, what physical problems mean and how to fix them. Math and spatial thinking, chemistry, physics, that kind of thing.” 

“He’s how we’re going to get into The Institute,” Elizabeth says. “He’ll be able to tell where they are hiding things.” 

“Wait. Hold on. How do you know this? What’s that mean?” 

“Everyone in a pack has a talent,” Ian says. “It’s how we stay strong and work together. Phoebe is a Seer–” 

“She’s reminding you she’s a _beginning_ Seer.” Elizabeth says quickly. 

“Right. Okay. And then Clara is a Healer. That’s why she’s involved with Laurel and the rest of them. And you’re a Collector.” 

Mickey looks back and forth. “What are you then?” 

Clara pats Elizabeth’s shoulder and slides the neck of the sweater back over her shoulder. “She doesn’t know,” she murmurs. She slides her arms around Elizabeth as soon as her arms are back in the armholes and pulls her up into her lap. It’s sort of comical, a tall Alpha curling up on her tiny omega’s lap, but it’s very sweet too. 

Ian looks back and forth. _”We didn’t even tell her yet. About her dad.”_

“Now what’s happening?” Mickey says. 

“We need to tell you about some stuff,” Elizabeth says. “Something you won’t want to hear. But Ian swears it’s true.” 

“Tell me what I am,” Ian says. “Tell me what I am first.” 

Phoebe gently blocks him. _“It’s not time yet.”_

“Wait, back up,” Clara says. “Tell us what?”

Ian tries to keep his voice even. “Your dad isn’t who you think he is.” 

There is a long pause. “I know.” 

“Wait,” Elizabeth says, sitting up. “You know?” 

“I suspected,” she says. “He’s part of them, isn’t he? The Institute.” 

Ian nods. “He threatened me. He...he slapped me in the face and told me to stay away from you.” 

Clara swallows, but keeps her voice steady. “Okay.” 

Phoebe raises her eyebrows. 

“Okay,” she says again. “So let’s get our things together then.” She pats Elizabeth’s leg. “Up. Off. Get off me.” 

Mickey pushes away from the wall. “Wait, where are we gonna go?” 

“Anywhere that’s not here. If that’s a tracking device then we might as well keep moving. We should split up maybe. We have to go.” 

“Wait,” Ian says to Phoebe. “You didn’t tell me. What am I?” 

Phoebe stands in his line of vision, blocking him from Elizabeth. _”Leave it. We’ll talk about it later. She needs to keep calm. The drugs are still in her system. She needs to feel in control or she’ll get reckless. It’s not her fault. It’s not her. It’s what they’ve done to her. She’ll be better in a few days when it works its way out.”_

 _”The meds?”_ he links. 

“The chip,” Elizabeth says. “Clara’s going to help get the chip out. Maybe Adam.” 

“You’re just going to cut it out?” Ian gasps. “What the hell?” 

“I’m a doctor.”  


Ian crosses his arms. “I’m not going to let you cut your own back up.” 

She shakes her head. “I’m _not_ ,” she says. “I said they were going to help me.” 

_”Wait. We have to hurry. I feel like someone is getting ready to come. We have to leave.”_

“She says we need to go,” Ian says. “We have to go. Now.” 

“Where?” Mickey says. 

Ian shrugs. “Your house maybe?” 

Mickey nods. “We got room. Let’s do that.” 

“No, Phoebe was right,” Clara says. “We have to split up. Elizabeth and I should go to the clubhouse. Check in with Laurel. Maybe Adam’s there.” 

“Wait,” Ian says. “What about Phoebe?” 

_”I have a place I can go. I’ll be okay there.”_

“Where? What if we need you?”

“Laurel’s apartment,” Elizabeth says. “Not the clubhouse. Her apartment. Go there instead. It’s marked and protected.” 

Phoebe shakes her head. _”I said I have a place.”_ Ian is still impressed she can growl through a link. 

“She has a place,” Ian says to Mickey and Clara. “She’s not going to tell us where.”

“Let’s go,” Mickey says. “Runnin’ outta time.” 

*

They had to wait for a bus forever, and then another bus, and then a train, a transfer, another train. By the time they hit the street and head toward Mickey’s house, it’s nearly dark.  


They’re cold. Hungry. Tired. Ian feels relief when Mickey’s house is in view. Ian reaches for his hand. Their sleeves are so long and they are walking so close and it’s winter anyway, so he doesn’t think Mickey will refuse. But he does. He fists his hands in his pockets.  


“What’s the matter?” Ian tries to keep the worry out of his voice. Tries not to take it too personally, but of course he takes it personally. “Are you mad at me or something?” 

Mickey shrugs. 

Ian stops walking, but Mickey doesn’t. 

“Come back,” Ian says, just a tinge of Alpha. 

Mickey slows down, but does not stop. He does not look back. 

“Wait,” Ian says, his long legs meeting his him in just a few strides. “Mickey, wait.” 

Mickey reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cigarettes. He lights one and offers the pack to Ian, who shakes his head. 

They stand there. The street. The snow. 

“What did I do?” Ian says quietly. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry. Just. Just please, tell me.” 

Mickey looks away and blows the smoke out. He looks down at his feet. 

“Please,” Ian says. He fights the urge to reach for him. 

“It’s just that you don’t know.” Mickey takes another drag of his cigarette and meets his eyes again. “You don’t know what it’s like,” he says quietly. 

Ian furrows his brow. “What what’s like?” 

Mickey sighs heavily, annoyed. He doesn’t speak, not at first, and takes a deep drag of his cigarette. “Bein’ an omega. You never even asked what it’s like for me. We just keep running into shit like you not knotting because you’re fucking jealous of–”

“Mickey,” he interrupts softly. “I swear. That’s done. We don’t need to talk about it again.” 

“Too fucking bad. We’re talking about it again.” 

Ian slowly nods his head. “Okay,” he whispers. 

Mickey steps closer and wipes his hand across his mouth. “You think I’m wrecked or something? Like, dirty or something?”

Ian’s eyes fly wide. The cold stings. “Of course not! Why, am I wrecked? Dirty?” 

Mickey shrugs with one shoulder. “Guess not.” 

Ian lets it hang there. He steps closer. “I love you,” he says. “Mickey, you’re my omega. I love you.” 

“I know,” Mickey says quietly. “But it’s just all this _shit._ All of it.” 

Ian’s mouth drops open and he can feel is brow furrowing. 

“It’s just all this shit,” Mickey says again. “All this Institute shit. It’s makin’ me wanna run. And not like this kinda runnin’. I mean runnin for real. Somewhere else. Far away. I’m used to runnin’. That’s what I’ve always done. And it works, too. But I don’t think you wanna. And I know that if you don’t run, I can’t run. I feel like. Like. I don’t know.”

“Helpless?” 

Mickey shrugs and drops his cigarette, stomps it with his boot. 

Ian tries to reach for Mickey’s hand again, but he still doesn’t pull it out of his pocket. “I didn’t know you wanted to run.” 

He shrugs. “Why, you think I wanna hang out with those moody chicks until we all wind up dead? I just–” he stops, swallows hard. “I just found you.” He looks back down. 

“Hey,” Ian says softly. He dares to hold a finger out and raise Mickey’s chin to look him in the eye. At first Mickey pulls back a little, but then he leans into Ian’s hand and raises his head. Mickey swallows, and his eyes are bright. “Hey, I know. I just found you, too. And I’m scared too, okay?” 

“Didn’t say I was scared,” Mickey says. “It’s just–”

“It okay to say you’re scared, you know,” Ian says. “This is some seriously scary shit. But Elizabeth is right. We will figure this all out, and when it’s done, we’ll be safe. For good.” 

Mickey shakes his head. “But she’s all drugged up still, probably. What if she’s wrong?” 

Ian doesn’t answer at first.

“I don’t know,” Ian says finally. “But I trust her. Do you? If you don’t, that’s okay, I’ll understand. I know things have been intense. But do you–” 

“I trust Clara,” he says firmly. “And if she trusts Elizabeth, then I do, too.” 

“Is it an omega thing? Do you guys, like, link or something?” 

Mickey shakes his head. “Some people do old fashioned fucking talking, believe it or not.” 

Ian stifles a laugh. 

“Nah,” Mickey says. “But even right away, right when I saw that band picture, I could pick her out, remember? And the first time I saw her, I knew.” 

“Knew?” 

“Yeah,” Mickey says. “The pack thing. Guess we have our own way of figuring it out.” 

“I didn’t know that,” Ian says. “Wow.” 

Mickey mumbles something. 

“What is it?” 

“I said there’s a lot you don’t know.” 

Ian shuffles his feet. He feels deflated. Humiliated. Wrong and terrible and the worst excuse for an Alpha. Not good enough to be with Mickey, be called Mickey’s Alpha. His stomach rolls and he bows his head deeply. 

“See,” Mickey says softly. “That’s it. That’s how an Alpha reacts when this happens. When the omega isn’t getting what they need. It’s more than fucking. It’s more than being dragged around. And it’s sure as shit more than being kept in the dark about half of what the three of you are talking about. I can’t even hear Phoebe talk. Do you know how hard that is? We don’t know what’s going on half the fucking time. Clara and me.” 

Ian doesn’t look up. He can’t. His heart is in his throat, and his eyes burn. 

Fuck. 

He swallows hard. His head bows deeper. 

“Ian,” Mickey says.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, so soft he doesn’t think Mickey hears him. “Fuck, Mick. I’m so sorry. You’re right. You’re right about everything.” 

He can feel him then. Mickey. He begins to get closer, leaning into his space, hands finding his. They are warm from his pockets, and wrap around Ian’s long, cold fingers. 

“C’mon. Gonna take you home with me.” 

Ian nods, but doesn’t look up. 

“Eh,” Mickey snaps. “You can look up again. We’ll be okay. C’mon.” 

Ian breathes deeply. “I’ll make it up to you. I swear. I’ll make it–” 

Mickey laughs. “You’ll make it up to me, all right. Hope you’re not too attached to those pants, fucker.” 

Ian’s grin is slow, and he feels a flush of something like embarrassment. “Not at all attached,” he says. “You can do whatever you want. I’ll do whatever you want.” 

Mickey grins, his tongue finding his cheek with the tiniest laugh behind it. 

“Was hopin’ you’d say that.” 

 

The house is cold, but when Mickey shrugs off his jacket, Ian can feel his warmth. He pulls Mickey’s coat off and slides against him, backing him slowly into the wall. 

“Hi,” Ian murmurs, lips inches from Mickey’s. 

“Hi,” Mickey says back. He slowly begins to present his neck, and Ian can’t help but give him a firm lick. He enjoys Mickey’s shudder. Mickey allows one more before pushing Ian off him. 

“Get in my room,” he says. “I’m gonna get some stuff.” 

Before he can say anything, Mickey pushes him again, this time toward his room. Ian lets himself be pushed, likes the smile that cracks out of both of them. 

It seems like years since he’s been in Mickey’s room. He scans the room for something, he doesn’t know what at first, but he realizes he’s looking for something out of place. Something that isn’t right, that doesn’t belong. He’s looking for a clue that The Institute has been there, that they have planted something that could hurt them. Some disturbance amid all the weaponry and clothes and empty beer bottles and cans on the floor. His eyes scan the walls and the windowsill. He feels a strange, singular focus that he hasn’t felt before. It’s as if he can see every tiny thing all of a sudden. Every fiber in the sweater lying on the floor. Every bit of remaining glue on a peeled-off label from a beer bottle. He can almost hear the wood windowsill responding to the cold on the other side of the glass. The more he looks, the more something starts happening to him. Breathing deeper, his mouth tightening, eyes almost gummy with effort. 

Mickey’s voice slowly cuts through his focus. “Hey. Hey! Been calling you.” Ian turns when Mickey touches his arm. Mickey steps back slightly when Ian meets his eyes. “Holy shit, you okay?” 

Ian gives his head a shake, not to say no, but to clear his mind. “It’s weird,” he says. “My head all of a sudden.” 

Mickey is holding something in his hands. Candles. The tall kind with the saints on them. Cheap and long-burning, the kind that you have on hand to pray to, or if the power is shut off. He starts to set them on the shelf above his bed. Ian raises an eyebrow playfully. 

“This aint because of you,” Mickey says, shaking the final candle before he sets it down. “The heater isn't turning on. This’ll have to do.” 

Ian tries not to respond so quickly, but his eyes pull all the same. 

Mickey chuckles as he lights them. “You’re not very fuckin subtle.” He sets the lighter down again. “There’s a wool blanket over there. Put it over the window. Cut the wind.” 

Ian scrambles to find it and loops it through what remains of the cheap curtain rod. The room is plunged in complete darkness except for the soft glow of Mickey in the candlelight. 

“You look beautiful,” Ian rumbles from the window

He sees Mickey’s omega respond immediately, but Mickey snorts. He starts to take his sweater off, and Ian breathes faster. 

“It’s hyperfocus,” Mickey says quietly. “You’re looking at our environment to check that it’s safe. Someday, if all this works, you’ll do it every so often wherever we end up. Check if we’re safe. Make sure no one can, you know, take me away from you.” 

Ian watches as Mickey slides the t-shirt over his head. He has hickeys on his chest. Of course he does, but still Ian growls. Instead of going to him, he heads for the doorway. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing until he’s doing it. He rubs his body against the doorway before he marks the outside of the door hard, taking his time. He does the same with the inside of the door. His eyes are closed, concentrating hard, almost seeing a sort of red glow come out of him as he does it. 

“That’s good,” Mickey says quietly, eyes wide. Ian doesn’t know if he means that’s good and he can stop, or that it’s good to see. 

“Do you feel better when I do that?” Ian says quietly. Not firm, more curious. 

“Fuck yeah,” Mickey says. “A lot. C’mere.” 

When Ian reaches the bed, Mickey pulls him down fast and hard, He pushes his wrists into Ian’s long hands and immediately Ian responds, squeezing his wrists just hard enough that Mickey gasps. Ian sucks at his neck before kissing Mickey hard. His skin begins to warm, just a little bit.

“Talk to me,” Mickey says. “Talk to me and I’ll get hotter.” 

“Fuck,” Ian whispers. “That worship thing?” 

“Yeah,” Mickey says, eyes closed, a tremble. “Yeah, that.” 

Ian growls. He kisses him hard, then slows down. When he pulls away from his lips, he kisses his face slowly, starting with his forehead, sniffing into his hairline. He works his way down his cheekbone, sliding against his ear, kissing the space beneath as he nudges Mickey’s head to the side. He keeps moving, lips and tongue sliding on the other side of his neck, the side that won’t be used when they claim. Mickey still responds, his body trying to bend as Ian holds him down. 

“You like this?” Ian tips to just barely graze his collarbone with his teeth. 

Mickey nods wildly. “Yes,” he whispers. 

“I love to touch you,” Ian whispers, moving to the other side of his head, back up in his hairline. “I love how you smell. I love how you taste.” 

Mickey’s breath speeds up. Sure enough, he is starting to warm. Ian moans against his neck, loving the soft skin beneath his lips, loving Mickey. 

“Oh god,” Ian whispers. He slides his hands off of Mickey’s wrists. Mickey gives a little disappointed sound, but Ian travels down to his chest, and Mickey’s complaint turns into a sigh. 

His nipple rises up in the cold, and Ian gives the slightest pull before he breaks away. “Your chest,” he whispers against his skin. “So strong. So sexy.” 

Mickey’s hands come up to hold Ian’s head. “Fuck,” he breathes. 

Ian moves down and down, dragging his lips through the soft hair on Mickey’s belly, fingertips fumbling with his belt. He unzips Mickey quickly, yanks off his pants and boxers, and moans against his hardness. Mickey gasps. 

“I love this,” he says softly. “Your dick in my face. In my mouth. Feeling you getting wet everywhere.” 

Mickey sucks in his breath. “Ian.” 

“God, your ass is getting so wet,” Ian gasps. He reaches down with his tongue and slides it against him. He draws his nose up his dick, smelling deeply. “Your cock smells so fucking good.” 

“Ian!” 

He raises his head. 

Mickey is grinning. “Are you gonna suck my dick or what?” 

Ian cracks a smile before he lowers his face again. He does. He puts Mickey’s dick in his mouth and hums at the taste. He pulls it in and in, down his throat, loving the stretch. When he begins to pull up, Mickey’s hand curls around his neck and he pushes him back down again. Holds him there. Fuck. Ian loves it. He loves the power Mickey shows, the way his dick feels in his throat, loves the way his head swims as he tries to breathe in through his nose. Fuck. Yes. 

Just as quickly, Mickey releases the pressure and pulls Ian up by his hair, the tiniest amount available to grab. Ian closes his eyes when he feels his mouth leave his wet cock. 

“Look so fuckin’ good,” Mickey grunts. “You’re my Alpha, right?” 

Ian nods, and Mickey’s hand begins to slip away from his head. “Yeah,” he gasps. 

“You gotta do what I say, right? Give me what I want? Need?” 

“Yeah,” Ian pants. “Yeah, I’ll do anything. Everything.” 

“Open your eyes,” Mickey says. “Look at me. Show me how much you want me.” 

Ian can feel his eyes pulled hard when he opens them. “I want you,” he says. “Always want you.” 

“C’mere,” Mickey says. He yanks on Ian and pulls him up to meet his face. Ian kisses him hard, and Mickey’s hands pull him close and closer. Suddenly he presses up against Ian, and Ian lets himself be flipped over. Ian gasps when Mickey’s mouth immediately finds his nipple and pulls. He starts to reach for him but Mickey bats his hand away. He raises his head. “Watch me. I’m in charge. Got it?” 

“Fuck,” Ian gasps. “Yeah. Yeah, I got it.” 

“Show you what a real omega can do,” Mickey says, low and firm. He starts to yank at Ian’s pants, and Ian fights the urge to push him up and take his own pants off, impatient. He feels himself wiggle. 

Mickey pushes Ian’s pants down the rest of the way and roughly pulls Ian’s legs apart. Ian hardly has time to gasp before his dick is in Mickey’s mouth. “Fuck. Fuck.” 

Mickey’s mouth tightens, almost teeth, and Ian looks down to find Mickey softly glaring up at him. Watch. Watch him. Okay. Okay, 

His mouth loosens again, just a little, just enough, and Ian fights to keep his eyes on Mickey’s. MIckey hums, but doesn’t close his eyes. Suddenly he pulls off. 

“Move,” he says. “‘M gonna get on the floor. Sit.” 

Ian sits up fast, and Mickey settles between his legs. He begins to pull him slowly. 

“Do you remember what I wanted to do?” Mickey asks. “That first time?” 

Ian nods slowly. “Knot. Knot your mouth.” 

MIckey doesn’t quite nod, but his face does something to let Ian know that’s exactly what he means. And he’s thought about it. He thinks a lot about it. He said he needed time. 

He thinks it’s time. 

Mickey nods his head slowly. “You sure?” 

“Yeah,” Ian whispers. “Just, are you sure it won’t, like, hurt you? It just seems like a lot. I don’t want to mess it up.” 

Mickey’s face softens and he rises to his knees. “Eh,” he says softly. “Remember what I said? I love it. And I can breathe. You don’t gotta worry about any of that. Okay?” 

Ian nods. 

“Alpha,” Mickey says, and when he slides his hand up Ian’s thigh, he can feel the heat from his palm. He leans in and kisses Ian’s sternum. “I’m gonna make you proud.” 

“Always make me proud,” Ian says, and he slides his hand over Mickey’s. His dick is so hard. Both of them are so hard. “I’m proud of you every single second. Are you proud of me? I’m trying. I know I need to do better,” he says fast. “I know I need to be better, Mick. I promise I know that. I–”

“Shh,” Mickey says, smiling. “Stop.” He leans forward and licks gently into Ian’s mouth. Ian responds, body shifting lower, letting Mickey take over. This is what he needs to do. He needs to let Mickey take over. 

They kiss like that for a long time. It’s perfect. When Mickey finally pulls away, Ian can feel his pulled eyes, see Mickey’s bright ones. 

“Will you show me?” he asks quietly. 

Mickey nods. “Just trust me,” he says. “And do exactly what it is your body wants to do, okay? You’re an Alpha. I’m an omega. We’re,” he pauses. “We’re together. That’s all we gotta do. Just be together. Like this. We’ll know when it’s time, just like the other times when you’re fuckin’ me. It’s the same. Just different.” 

“Same but different,” Ian says quietly. He tries not to laugh. It would be a nervous laugh, and Mickey would know it.

“Deep breath,” Mickey says. He pauses, holding onto Ian’s eyes with his bright ones. His thumbs drag against Ian’s hips, and Ian draws a shaky breath. 

He’s in Mickey’s mouth. Deep. Wet. He fights to keep his eyes open, fights to stare at Mickey the whole time. The look of bliss on Mickey’s face. Feeling the way his own face goes slack with pleasure. 

It doesn’t take long. It really doesn’t. As his base starts to thicken, Mickey draws his tongue down with every pass, massaging the base, somehow doing it all, doing everything he possibly could do. He’s an omega. An omega’s eager mouth and throat and fuck it’s perfection. 

“Mick,” Ian gasps. “It’s gonna. I’m gonna. _Fuck._ ” He reaches down and grabs Mickey’s hair with a growl. Immediately, Mickey groans so deep Ian’s eyes pull even harder. He raises his hips and presses Mickey down further. Mickey’s fingers tighten. 

It’s happening. He’s getting thicker and thicker. Mickey keeps moaning before the wetness of his mouth pulls him deep into his throat, cutting off his voice. Ian can see the stretch of Mickey’s mouth against his knot.  
-  
A sudden moan, a lock. Mickey’s eyes closed, Ian coming hard into his mouth and throat. More. More. He breathes hard as he pulls at Mickey’s hair. Not to move him. Just soft enough, just hard enough, to give him the right mix of light pain and massive pleasure to send endorphins coursing through his body.

“Look so fucking good,” Ian growls. He looks down at Mickey’s dick, and can see it weeping from the tip. He licks his lips, pretending he is tasting Mickey instead. “Can’t wait to suck your dick again. Make you come. You look so fucking good, omega. Doing such a good job. Making me so proud taking me like this.” 

The jumble of words pounding in Ian’s head and falling out of his mouth surprise him. He would have never known this would come so easily to him, knotting Mickey’s mouth. It feels more intimate. A gift. The more he talks, the hotter Mickey’s hands are on his hips. Ian reaches out and glides his fingers over Mickey’s face. 

“Gonna come again,” Ian groans. “Fuck. Get ready, Mick. I’m almost.” He can feel the sweat on his brow when it releases. He can feel a flutter in Mickey’s throat. He looks up at the ceiling, gasping. 

He looks back down, and there Mickey is. Bright eyes full. Mouth full, lips stretched so wide. He begins to whisper to him, things like good, like omega, like love. 

His knot goes down faster than usual, and when he falls out of Mickey’s mouth, he grabs him and pulls him close, petting him. He is startled to feel tears in his eyes. 

“Is that what you wanted? Did I do it right? Are you okay?” 

Mickey crashes his mouth against Ian’s. He can taste himself, but he doesn’t care. When they part, Mickey pushes him on his back and crawls on top. “That was so fucking good,” he grunts. “Took care of me. Take care of me, Ian.” 

Ian’s presses up against Mickey’s chest and reaches back, fingers finding his dick, starting to slide, but then Mickey shakes his head. 

“Not what I mean,” he pants. “Not that. Not yet. Want you hard again for me. Get hard for me, Alpha.” 

Ian’s eyes widen. “I need a minute. Don’t think I can yet.” 

“You can,” Mickey says firmly, staring into Ian’s eyes. “Get hard, Alpha. Want you to fuck my ass.” 

Ian’s back bows with a groan, and there it is. He’s getting hard again, fast. Almost too fast. His toes curl. “How are you doing this? Shit, Mickey. Wanna fuck you.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Ian rumbles. He reaches for him, trying to switch positions, but Mickey shoves him down again. 

“Easy.” 

He slides into Mickey, smoother than anything. He clenches his eyes shut. Don’t come. Don’t come. Don’t. 

Mickey rocks on top of him and rakes his sharp nails down Ian’s crest hard. “Who’s my Alpha?” 

“Me. Oh god, Mick. I am.” 

“You think any omega is better than me? Think there’s anyone with an ass like mine? Mouth like mine? Think anyone else can take you like I do?” 

“Fuck no.” He hisses. “Shit. Shit. Gonna start to knot.” 

“You can’t knot yet. Breathe it down.” 

“Breathe it down? I can’t, I mean, I don’t know how to–” 

“I said breathe it the fuck down! Your omega is saying it, Alpha.” 

He loosens. He can feel it loosen. His Alpha pants, mind spinning. “Yes,” he whispers. “Yes, omega. Mickey. For you.” 

“Why do you like to knot me, Alpha?” 

Ian hisses with sensitivity. Mickey has never felt so good inside. “Be-because.” 

Mickey moans. “Because why?” 

“Because you’re my omega.” 

“More. Try again.” 

“Because I love you.” 

“More.” 

Ian groans before hissing again. 

“Hands on my hips,” Mickey pants. “Hold me down. I’m gonna ask one more time. “Why do you like to knot me, Alpha?” 

Ian’s eyes roll back as he grabs at Mickey harder. “Because you ask me to,” he moans. “Because you want me to. And I have to please you.” 

“What else?” 

Ian’s back arches and he grabs even harder. He knows he’s bruising him, and he knows they both don’t care. “I have to do what you say. Because you’re my omega. And without you, I’m nothing.” 

“You’re an Alpha,” Mickey corrects, panting. 

Ian shakes his head fast. “I’m nothing without you, Mick. Even as an Alpha, I’m nothing if I can’t take care of you, And I’ll do whatever you want. I wanna make you come. I want you to come.” 

Mickey growls. He can growl too. He bends, lips smashing against his before he bites at his lips, then Ian’s neck. He bites hard, and Ian moans again. “Knot me,” he grunts against his lips. “Fuckin’ knot me. Now.” 

“Ahhh!” Ian’s brain is on fire, and his whole body tightens, and suddenly there it is, filling fast, widening so fast, and Ian can tell when it locks because Mickey is already falling off the cliff, starting to come, bliss overtaking his face. Ian raises his hips, just a little, and he locks in even harder, feeling himself come again, filling Mickey’s ass. “Mick,” he pants. “MickMickMick.” 

“Knees up,” Mickey pants, and Ian scrambles to comply. Mickey gives a brief hiss as the adjustment stretches him further. “Now come. Again. C’mon.” 

Ian’s eyes roll back as he does what is asked, immediately, before even knowing what’s happening. “Come,” Mickey says again, breathless, so Ian does. 

Their breath is fast, their voices broken and loud, and suddenly things begin to slow. Ian feels his knot start to loosen, and he breathes hard. He can feel wetness slipping out between them. He can’t bring himself to care, not even to dwell on how hot it makes him. He’s exhausted. He closes his eyes. 

He feels Mickey’s breath on his face, and then Mickey’s lips. He kisses him back, weakly. Mickey pulls back with a chuckle. “You still alive in there?” 

“Shit,” Ian says, wiping a hand over his face. “Just barely. That was. That was. _Fuck._ ” 

When he opens his eyes, Mickey is smiling down at him. “So?” 

Ian smiles back. “So?” 

“You startin’ to get an idea of what an omega can be?” 

He breathes out a laugh and reaches for Mickey’s ass. “I’m starting to.” 

Mickey shakes his head. “You really think you got it in you? Seems to me you’re down for the count.” 

Ian stares at him, then flips them over. Mickey yelps. Ian kisses him hard and then pulls back. “Don’t stop now,” he teases. “Boss me around.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

Mickey yanks him forward, tongue plunging into his mouth. He nips his lip hard when Ian eases off. “Good,” he says, a playful smack to the cheek. “Good Alpha.” 

*  
The candlelight dances over their bodies. Mickey’s cigarette smoke rises into the air. 

“What was it like?” Ian says quietly. “When you realized you were an omega?” 

Mickey sighs, but doesn’t say anything. He passes the cigarette over. Ian takes a drag and passes it back. 

“What was it like when you found out you were an Alpha?” 

It is Ian’s turn to pause. 

“I guess I don’t know,” Ian says finally. “Confusing. Kind of scary. But not at the same time.” 

Mickey gives an affirmative hum. “Like that. Except I was expecting to be a beta. I knew I wouldn’t be an Alpha.” 

“Why not?” 

Mickey rolls on his side to ash into the ashtray behind their heads. The light flickers against his heavy sigh. “I’m fucking short, for one.” 

Ian chuckles. “Not that short. I’m just tall.” 

“Whatever, man.”

Ian opens and closes his mouth. Opens again. “Did you ever, like, feel attracted to me or anything? Before your Reveal? Or my Reveal? Some people have that. I’m just wondering why we didn’t.” 

“We did,” Mickey says. “I mean, I did. When you’d come over with Mandy, I’d spend hours with my hands in my fucking pants.” 

Ian wants to laugh, but he doesn’t. 

“Plug myself. Work myself with my fake dick.” 

Ian looks around. “You have a dildo?” 

“Course. Why wouldn’t I? Told you already. Tried to stop heats with toys. This is what I meant.” 

Ian doesn’t have an answer. It makes sense. But he’s never seen one in person.” 

“So there’s a knot on it or something?” 

Mickey takes one last drag and stubs the cigarette out. “Yeah,” he says. “They got all kinds of em. Best ones get thicker and thicker the more you take in, so it feels more, you know. Real? And some you can even fill with this...lube type stuff. So when you take the whole knot, you put pressure on it, and it comes out. So you get to feel like,” he pauses. “Full, I guess. Makes it feel more real. Like you’re really getting knotted. But it’s not the same.” 

“How often did you use it?” 

Mickey rolls on his side again. “Why?” 

“Just curious. I don’t know.” 

“Sometimes,” Mickey says. “Depending on who was home. I couldn’t stay quiet if I used it.” 

Ian nods and slides his hand down Mickey’s arm. “If you ever want to use it, we can.” 

Mickey laughs. “Why would I wanna do that when I can use your dick any time I want, Alpha?” 

Ian laughs. Mickey moves onto his side again, drags his fingertips over the red spots where he scratched him. Ian smiles and fights a shiver. It feels so good. 

“Tell me about your heats,” Ian says quietly. “Not what happened in them. I mean, what’s your cycle like?” 

Mickey searches his eyes. “With meds, about three months. Heat comes around, but it’s only a day or so. I don’t need to get fucked. Just kind of feverish. I mean, I get hot anytime, but it’s a lot more in a real heat. Hotter than worship, even. But I can take care of it myself. But without meds, or not enough meds, it’s harder.” 

Ian reaches out and slides Mickey’s hair back. “Do you know what’s going to happen? Now that we found each other? Should we start tracking it or something? That’s what couples do, right? So we can figure out what you need when?” 

Mickey shrugs a shoulder. “Gotta figure this med thing out first, I guess. But I know it will be different when it’s time.” 

“Time?” 

MIckey reaches down, picks up Ian’s fingers, brings them to his presenting neck. “Time for this.” 

Ian’s breath shakes. “When do you think it’ll happen? Can you feel it? Your cycle?” 

Mickey hesitates, then nods. “It won’t be long.” 

Ian can feel his eyes pull, but he tries to blink them away. He gently pulls MIckey down to meet his mouth, slip his tongue inside. Mickey is starting to roll back on top when Ian stops him. “Can you slow it down? Just until we know we’re okay? Blockers or something?” 

“Yeah,” Mickey says. “I can use my blockers. But it doesn’t feel right. Might get sick if I do. Puke sick. Weak. Sometimes that happens. With a real Alpha,” he pauses. “With _my_ Alpha, it could be worse. An’ it’d be worse to be sick than checking out for three days from a heat.” 

Ian feels a rumble grow in his throat, then feels it rattle over his teeth. He wants him. He pulls Mickey closer and bites his neck with a loud growl. Mickey moans immediately.  


“You know you want to, Alpha.” Mickey pulls hard “You know you wanna claim me. You want me hot and wet for you.” 

Ian bites harder, feels his skin give a little. He pulls away with a gasp. “Not yet,” he pants. “Not yet.” 

They don’t speak. They kiss. They kiss and they touch, and Mickey was right. Of course Ian wants to. Of course he does. He fantasizes about it, those three days with Mickey in bed, no distractions, nothing but them, and when they leave they will be bonded. He has to bite his lips to keep from biting Mickey again. 

“Have to do something else then I guess,” Mickey says, somewhat grumpy. He pulls away, but Ian pulls him back, pinning him with his gaze, voice low. 

“You said toys. Plural. What else do you have?” 

“Some beads. Shove em in my ass and pull em out real slow.” 

Ian tips his head to the side playfully. “How is that fun for me?” 

“C’mon,” Mickey smiles. 

Ian kisses Mickey quickly. “Get em,” he says. “I wanna see.” 

Mickey hesitates. HIs eyes brighten. “Really?” 

Ian nods. “Yeah, really.” 

Mickey stands up, stretching before turning back. “You gotta get up. They’re in the bed.” 

Ian rolls out of bed and reaches for his head. “What’s with you omegas hiding dildos in your beds?” 

Mickey shakes his head. “Fuck off. They’re hard to hide.”

“I was kidding,” Ian says. “I understand. I’m sorry.” 

“Nah,” Mickey says, shoving the sagging mattress off of the box spring. “It’s fine.” The fabric covering it is shredded in one corner, and Ian can see a shoebox inside. He smiles with excitement. 

Mickey passes the box over, and Ian is about to open the lid when there is a banging on the front door. They freeze. The banging comes again.

“Get your clothes on,” Ian says quickly, pulling on his own clothes. “I’ll deal with this.”

“No,” Mickey says. “We’ll both deal with it.” 

Ian opens his mouth to argue, but stops. Mickey’s right. Together. 

Ian’s eyes narrow as they reach the front door. He tries to see through it, but can’t quite make the person out. 

Mickey reaches for the doorknob. Ian wants to stop him, but he doesn’t. 

It’s Adam, his shoulders up to his red ears. He isn’t wearing a coat. Why isn’t he wearing a coat? He looks around before he speaks. He leans in, keeps his voice low.

“We need to talk.”


	11. Behind The Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allies reveal secrets.
> 
> (also added a few tags)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience as I dealt with "real life" challenges over the last months. I'm happy I am able to share this with you today. Chapter 12 is in the works, and 13 will be the last chapter. I'm hopeful to churn those out faster. Thanks for sticking with me through all this. <3

“We need to talk.” 

Adam is shaking, and part of Ian knows it’s not just from the cold. “Come in,” he says, and reaches out to pull him in. 

“I’ll get a blanket,” Mickey says. “Bring him in my room. It’s the warmest.” 

Adam shakes his head. “I’m putting you in danger,” he says. “I can’t stay.” 

Ian shakes his head. “We aren’t letting you leave without a coat. C’mon, come in Mickey’s room.” 

Adam’s nose twitches when he comes in the room, and he covers his nose with his forearm and blinks his eyes.

Ian looks over to the bed, rumpled sheets. “Yeah,” he says. “We just–” 

Adam nods. “It’s your Alpha,” he says, voice muffled. “Not the sex. I don’t mind that. Your Alpha scent is a lot stronger in here. It makes mine feel a little intimidated.” 

“I didn’t know that happened,” Ian says. 

“This place is marked within an inch of it’s life. Not just the door. All of it. Mickey, the walls, the bed, the air, all of it.” Adam says. He cocks his hip forward in Ian’s direction. “My pocket,” he says. “Pull the paper out of my pocket.” 

Ian finds it quickly and opens it. It is a lot larger than he anticipated. Some sort of diagram, like a blueprint. 

“Lemme see that,” Mickey says, and pulls it out of his hands. His eyes flick quickly over the paper. 

Ian steps closer. “What is it?” 

“Shh.” Mickey sits on the bed and holds it closer to the candles. He doesn’t look up. His brow furrows. “Where’d you get this?” 

“It’s better if I don’t say,” Adam says from behind his arm. “Someone left the max security door open. Only two people are allowed in, and neither of them are me. I wasn’t sure where I was, but I knew I didn’t have time. They had this hanging on the wall in a frame. I pulled it out. But as I walked out, I heard someone coming down the hall. I ran. I managed to get up in the elevator but when I got to the front door the sirens were blaring.” 

“So this is classified?” Mickey turns the paper over. 

“Very much so,” Adam says. 

“So you haven’t even been in here? You never seen this stuff?” 

“Never.” 

Ian can feel Adam’s fear in waves. “What happens in there?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Who can go in there? What are their names?”

Adam trembles. “I don’t know,” he says into his arm. “I recognize them, but I don’t know who they are. I’ve been too scared to ask.” He pauses, shakes his head fast. “I can’t believe I’m supposed to be an Alpha. I’m useless. I’m-” 

“Hey,” Ian says softly. “Adam, you aren’t useless. You aren’t.”

“I’m gonna look at this at the table,” Mickey says, shaking the plan. “Something’s wrong with it.” 

Adam still doesn’t meet his eyes. “What should I do? I could try and draw them, or…”

Ian steps closer, takes Adam’s hand in his. Adam’s fingers jerk at first, but Ian takes a deep breath and slides his thumb over the back of his hand. He hopes it’s soothing. “Hey, it’s okay.” Ian says. “Everything’s gonna be okay. Just trust me, okay?” Adam nods. “Okay,” Ian says again. “Drop your arm so you can smell me.” 

His arm comes down slowly, and Ian can see Adam’s Alpha take deep breaths. There’s another shudder, but he blinks it away.

“You okay?” 

Adam nods. Nods again. 

Ian keeps sliding his thumb over his hand. “Do you think you could link it to me?” 

Adam shrugs. “I guess I could try.” 

“Close your eyes,”

Adam does, and Ian can see the slightest cower. Ian can feel his energy, can almost touch his submission. 

“Adam,” he says again, softer. “You don’t have to do that. I’m just worried. Please.” 

Adam doesn’t respond. Ian can see his nostrils twitch. 

“Please,” he says, almost inaudible. “Just relax. We’ll be okay.” 

It takes a full minute before Ian starts to see something. It’s like being dropped in fog. It’s different than when he links with Phoebe and Elizabeth. He doesn’t feel any emotion, or feel like he has melded together with Adam. He is just himself. Purely himself. He can feel his own body. He opens his mouth. “Hey,” he says. “Adam, I can’t see anything.” It’s his voice, no one else’s. 

He hears Adam’s voice, far away. “I’m trying,” he says. “I’m trying.” 

Ian closes his eyes against the fog, and focuses on his hands. In the fog, he lifts one in front of his face. The other doesn’t lift. He breathes deeply and tries to focus. 

He can still feel Adam’s hand. 

He works hard, very hard, to keep one part of himself physically with Adam and one in this world of fog. He can almost feel himself sweat with the effort. He finally feels it. Adam’s hand under his. He squeezes. 

“Holy shit.” It’s in a breath, Mickey’s voice. “Ian, are you okay? You don’t look so good.” 

Ian shakes. He squints his eyes hard in the fog. He thinks he might be able to see something shadowy. 

“Harder,” he growls. “Adam, try harder. I can’t see.” 

Nothing moves. No shadows. 

“Try,” Ian says through a growl. “Just listen to me. Listen to my voice.” 

Instead of zooming in, instead of clearing the picture, it just gets more murky. Then, all at once, it goes dark. He’s lost. Adam is lost. They are both lost. Adam couldn’t do it. 

“Shit,” Ian mutters under his breath. He lets his hand drop from Adam’s. “Shit. Sorry.” 

The candles still flicker, and Adam bows his head. “I couldn’t do it,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry. I tired. I’m just not part of you guys. Your pack. I’m not strong enough.” He swallows hard. 

“Hey hey hey,” Ian says fast. Calmly. “Hey, you tried, okay? And I know you would have shown me if you could.” 

“Lookit,” Mickey says, coming back in the bedroom. “Look, this don’t make sense.” 

He spreads the blueprint out on his bed. “See here?” He taps the front door to the Alpha wing, the plastic maze where Ian first spoke to Adam on the intercom, first met Elizabeth. “See this part?”

“Uh, yeah?” Ian tries to follow his train of thought. 

“See,” Mickey says. “Now look there, there and there.” Two of his fingers mash against the paper. The elevator, the hallway, and a space beyond the elevator.

“It’s a wall,” Adam says. “There’s nothing there.” 

“Nuh-uh,” Mickey says. “There’s something there. Otherwise they wouldn’t have electric runnin’ all through that.” 

“I don’t get it,” Ian says. “Of course they’d have electric routed through there. Where else would it be?” 

There’s a pause. 

“Stop. You need to listen,” Mickey says, looking back and forth. “Listen to me. Listen closely.” 

Ian nods. 

“They have something back here,” he says. “Electric wouldn’t be this complex if it was just for the wall. Plus they got these spaces here.” He taps the paper again. “That’s 12 feet. Then they got another round of electric. Why would they run electric for the same place twice?” 

Adam and Ian look at each other. 

“And then it goes all the way down here,” Mickey taps down in a line, showing the open space behind the wall all the way down to the base of the elevator. “And then under here.” Tap tap tap, below the elevator. “And then way back over here like Adam was talkin’ about. Then it goes on from there. We don’t have the whole plan for that, though. So I don’t know what else is goin’ on. This the only plan you stole?” 

Adam nods. “I didn’t see any other ones hanging on the wall.” 

Mickey worries his lip with his fingers. “Guess we’ll have to find out ourselves, then.” 

“Wait,” Ian says. “You mean we should just go in and…”

“Hello,” Mickey says. He points at Adam. “You got him, and you got your girlfriend. They’re deep in this shit already. We don’t gotta break in.” 

Ian lets out a slow breath. “It still doesn’t make sense to me.” He rubs his eyes. “Feel like my brain isn’t working right.” 

“It’s late,” Adam says quietly. “You guys get some sleep. I’ll stay awake, just in case.” He stands up to leave the room. 

“No,” Ian says, slight Alpha. “Just stay in here with us.” He pats Mickey’s bed. “We have room.” 

Mickey raises an eyebrow, but Ian pats his hand too. “Wait, sorry,” he says quietly. “Is that okay?”

Mickey nods, but Adam pulls back just the same.

“I promise,” Adam says. “Just let me stay awake. I’m not tired.” 

Mickey shrugs. “If you say so,” he says. 

“Adam,” Ian says, his Alpha a little stronger. “You need sleep. You look exhausted.” 

There’s a moment, one little moment, when Adam looks like he is about to say something, but it passes. He nods, but slumps down on the floor, his back to Mickey’s door. 

“Let’s get some sleep,” Ian says, and he and Mickey curl into each other. His eyes start closing immediately, but he keeps jerking awake to look at Adam, who is still awake and staring at them. 

He closes his eyes, drawing the blueprints over again in his mind, until he falls asleep. 

*  
He jerks awake to Mickey shaking him. He immediately grabs onto him tight. 

“What is it, what’s going on?” He grabs Mickey tighter. 

“He’s gone,” Mickey says. “Adam’s gone.” 

He looks around the room. “Well, maybe he just decided to…” 

“The front door is wide open. And he isn’t wearing that jacket. Somethin’ happened.” 

Ian can feel his eyes fly open, almost wild. “Get back,” he says. “Did you go out there?” 

Mickey nods. “Yeah, but-”

“You should have woken me up!” 

“I just did.” 

“What about the plans? Did he take them?”

Mickey’s blue eyes are wide, worried. “Oh fuck.” 

They rush out of the room. Ian is immediately hit with cold air. “Shit shit shit,” he says. He starts sorting through all the crap in Mickey’s living room. He doesn’t see the plans.

“Something happened,” Mickey says again. “He woulda left ‘em otherwise.” 

Ian clenches his teeth and takes a shaky breath. He keeps staring at the front door. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Mickey softly touches his arm. 

“We’ll find him,” Mickey says quietly. 

Ian shakes his head. “No,” he says. “No, we won’t. Whether they took him or he left on his own, I think he’s gone for good.” 

They stand there staring at each other. Finally, Mickey speaks.

“Now what.”

Ian shakes his head. “I don’t know.” 

Mickey raises his eyebrows. “You don’t know?” 

“I don’t know,” Ian says again, softer. 

“What about the girls? Elizabeth and Clara? We should make sure they’re home. Maybe Adam went there. You know her apartment?” 

Ian nods. “What about Phoebe? We don’t even know where she went.”

“She’s okay,” Mickey says quickly. He heads back to his room, and Ian follows. 

“Wait,” Ian says, watching Mickey search for their shoes. “Wait, do you know where she went?” 

Mickey shrugs. 

“Tell me,” Ian says. There is no Alpha, just him. Just worried, just afraid. “Where is she?” 

Mickey shakes his head. “She needed my help about where to go.” 

Ian opens and closes his mouth. “But why–why’d she ask–” 

“Me?” Mickey snorts. Tossing Ian his shoes, sitting on his bed to pull his boots on. “Just ‘cause.” 

“Did she not trust us? Why didn’t she tell us? Me and Elizabeth, I mean.” 

“Look,” Mickey says. “You two aren’t the only people in this, okay? And you can be a pretty fucking big liability. You’re gettin’ blind to how bad this is, and how much it involves all of us. You keep saying you want us to be safe, but you’re not safe either.” 

Ian swallows. Nods slowly. “I know that,” he says quietly. “That’s all I ever think about. And thinking of us all split up–” His voice breaks. “Thinking of them taking us, all of us, tearing the pack apart?” He tries hard to clear his throat. “I just, I can’t–” 

“Hey,” Mickey says softly. His hand slides up his body slowly, resting against his neck. Pulling his head down, just enough. “They’re not gonna do that. You three wouldn’t let that happen. You’re strong together. Anyone can feel that.” He lets his thumb slowly trace Ian’s bottom lip. “I feel safe with you,” he whispers. “You want us to be safe, right? But I already feel safe. Never felt safe in my life. Not til you.” 

Ian trembles. He still feels his tears, but something underneath. His heartbeat. Mickey’s, too. His hand cradles Mickey’s head, and he slowly brings him to his lips, fingers tracing along his jaw. 

Their kiss heats up fast. Mickey’s tongue is in his mouth and when Ian’s arm snakes around his waist to press him closer, he can feel how hard MIckey is. He groans. They both groan. Ian can feel his eyes begin to pull. He pulls Mickey closer. 

“Alpha,” he says softly. 

Ian’s breath is heavy. “Is this weird timing? Because we don’t have to-“

“It’s perfect timing,” Mickey says. “I need you. Need to feel close to you. Like this.”

Ian eases him down, lowering Mickey to the mattress, spreading out on top of him. 

Ian presses himself harder against Mickey, pulls his arms up above his head and pins them down. Mickey’s breath catches and his head flies to the side, revealing his beautiful pale neck.

Ian lets a small growl escape. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he says. 

Mickey squirms, almost uncomfortable. “No I’m not,” he says. “Not like you.” 

“You are,” Ian says, sucking on his neck, feeling Mickey shake beneath him. “You’re so sexy, omega.” 

Mickey cries out at the last word, just like he always does. His eyes roll back. 

Ian growls, lets go of his hands, pulls back, yanks Mickey’s pants down. He reaches down, trying to unlace the boots as fast as possible. “On your back or hands and knees?” 

“Hands and knees,” Mickey pants. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

There’s that thing again, the feeling that Mickey isn’t telling him exactly what he wants. Holding back. 

“What is it, Mick? I’ll listen. I’m here. Whatever you need.” 

Mickey swallows. “You mean it?” 

Ian nods fast. “Always. I always mean it.” 

Mickey’s eyes are hooded. “Take off your belt. Put it around my hips so you can pull me back. Pull me back so you can push into me harder.” 

“Holy shit,” Ian growls. “You want it like that? Want me to take control of you like that?” 

“Feel safe that way,” Mickey pants. “C’mon.” 

He rolls over, head firm against the pillow, knees spread, presenting his beautiful ass. He pulls himself apart, shows Ian how wet he already is.

Ian kicks off the shoes he just put on. He starts to open his pants. He hears the jingle of his belt buckle and Mickey groans. 

“Stop. Take it off slow,” Mickey says. “Wanna hear it. The belt. Let me hear the belt.” 

Ian is surprised how his hand shakes when it reaches down to touch the buckle. He pulls the leather around it out the slightest bit, just to free up more of the buckle. He runs his fingers over the teeth, lets them drop back against the metal, slowly shaking it back and forth. He fights a shiver as he brings it to Mickey’s skin, letting it drag up and down, pressing it in and releasing it. Pulling it back just enough that the metal teeth drag against his hot skin. He moans. 

Ian pulls back and reaches for the leather. He knows if he pulls it out fast it will have a satisfying zipping sound, high pitched but still loud. He thinks about slowing it, but knows Mickey will like the sound it makes. But for now, he’ll wait. Mickey’s head rises from the pillow, gasping. His body does a slow roll and then he’s pushing back, raising his hips again. Ian pauses and pulls back, just slightly. Mickey makes a little disappointed sound, but Ian slaps his ass hard. He gasps before breaking into a heavy moan. 

“Again,” he groans. 

His skin grows hotter under Ian’s hand. It’s not just the heat from his slap. It’s his skin everywhere. Ian drags his fingertips up and down his back, and Mickey pushes his hips back again. 

“Stay still,” Ian says, slight rumble. 

“Alpha,” Mickey groans. “Please. Do that again.” 

“Do what?” 

Mickey huffs out a laugh through his heavy breath. “Don’t make me say it, asswipe.” 

Ian’s hand comes back and he sharply brings it down. “Do that?” 

Mickey moans. “Yes,” he pants. 

“More?” 

Mickey nods wildly. Ian takes his time. He moves his fingers all over Mickey’s ass, pulling back slightly to see Mickey’s skin tremble, waiting for the slap that doesn’t come. Ian’s fingers reach down to slide through the wetness. 

“This gets you wet,” Ian says, rumbling. “You like this, don’t you?” 

“Yeah,” he groans. “Please. More.” 

Ian’s hand grabs at his hip, wide palm, long fingers, holding him completely still. With the other hand he pulls back and brings his hand down.One, two, three, four, five. Mickey is moaning, and Ian can feel how much he wants to move. Not to get away. To lean more into it, to keep rolling his body, pulling Ian closer. 

Because even though Ian’s the one whose hands are on him, his hand is already reaching for his belt, slowly reaching, letting the buckle jingle again, Mickey is the one calling the shots. Mickey is the one who is inviting Ian into this. Who is asking for this, both with his mouth and his body. 

Ian shudders. He grabs as much of Mickey’s hair as he can, not too hard, but just hard enough that he feels it. He knows Mickey wants to put his head back into the pillow, but he wants him up, wants to be able to reach under him, play with his nipples, drag his nails over his chest. He sees the reddening on one side. The other cheek needs attention. He releases his hand from Mickey’s hair, and Mickey stays put. 

“Please,” Mickey whispers. 

Ian’s fingers glide softly and slowly against the other cheek, pale. He backs up enough to watch when his hand comes down even harder than before. One, two, three, four, five. Mickey’s legs are shaking, and Ian reaches below him, his rock-hard cock leaking. He drags his fingers up, over his perineum and over his hole, and there is nothing but wetness everywhere, nearly dripping. His other hand comes back again. Four. Then the other side. Two times, then three. Four. Five. Mickey’s skin burns. 

“Gonna come from this,” Mickey groans. “Oh fuck.” 

“Shhh,” Ian whispers. He grabs Mickey’s hips hard, so hard, harder than anything. “Slow down,” he says. “Just breathe.” 

He loosens his grip, but Mickey’s hand flies back to grab Ian’s hand, wordlessly telling him to tighten again. 

Mickey breathes hard, then slows, just slightly. He shakes his head slowly. “I wanna come,” he says. “Ian. Alpha.” 

“You will,” Ian whispers. He leans down and kisses Mickey’s back softly, full lips, full mouth. He sucks very softly. 

“Your belt,” Mickey pants. “Remember, your belt.” 

For a second Ian falters. He loves how much Mickey wants to be spanked. It gets him leaking, too. It’s so hard not to just thrust into him at the same time. He lets his mind stay with that image just for a second. Spanking him while being inside him. He growls, and Mickey moans. 

Ian’s hands shake. It takes a second before he realizes he’s nervous. Nervous about what is going to happen next. _I can’t spank him with this belt,_ he thinks. Ian doesn’t want to. Does Mickey want him to? Because he just doesn’t feel comfortable with it. It’s too much. Too soon. Maybe someday, but not–

“Fuck,” Mickey groans. “Your belt. Please.” 

He falters slightly. “I can’t, you know–” he says. “I’m not sure I can–” 

“You don’t gotta do that,” Mickey says. “It’s okay. Just, just let me feel it. Then use it to pull my hips back. Remember?” 

Before Ian answers, he lets the buckle jingle one last time. Mickey rolls back, spreading himself even wider. 

When Ian rips the belt from his belt loops, the sound is absolutely perfect. Mickey moans and shakes. 

“Ian, I’m gonna come.” 

“Not yet,” Ian says. He takes his belt and cracks it against itself before letting it slip back down loosely in his hand. Mickey doesn’t turn, but his hand searches for the end of the belt. He finds it, and brings it close to his face. Ian isn’t sure what he’s doing at first. 

He kisses it. He kisses the belt. He drags his tongue over it with a groan. One more kiss, and he drops it. 

The Alpha in Ian rises up harder, so much faster, and it’s like Ian’s head is simultaneously set on fire and shoved underwater. He growls, and Mickey says “Fuck yes. Fuck. Do it.” 

Ian gathers the belt in a loop again. He drags it slowly and softly all over Mickey’s back. Mickey arches and moans, and when he drags it over his ass, he can see Mickey dripping. 

Mickey makes some sort of noise, like he’s trying to find a word, but can’t find it. But Ian is fast, moving with certainty and service. He loops the belt around Mickey’s hips, pulling the ends toward him. Yanks him back hard. He pushes inside Mickey with one smooth thrust, and groans at how ready Mickey was for this. For him. 

“This what you wanted?” Ian pants. He pauses, doesn’t move. Enjoys the sight of Mickey’s back rising and falling quickly with his breath. He shifts just enough that he’s able to push back in harder without pulling out. 

“Yes,” Mickey says, voice wrecked. 

“You want me to take you like this? Pull you back on me?” 

Mickey nods fast. “Makes me feel safe. Yours.” 

It’s all Ian can do to not form his knot. He grabs the folded part of the belt harder, choking up on it, making sure his hands are low enough that he has complete control, a tight grip. He knows that when he starts pulling back, Mickey will be able to feel the leftover slack ends now and then. 

“Ready?” He feels steady, in control, but so eager to please Mickey that his breath stutters when he says it. 

“Yeah,” Mickey says. “Yeah, ‘n I’m gonna beg you to come.” 

It’s immediate, an immediate growl. “Yeah? You wanna wait for me to say you can?”

Mickey nods fast. “Now,” he says. “Fuck me now. Pull me back.” 

His fist clenches hard around the belt, and when he starts to pull his cock out of him, he hears a small whine under a breath. But then Ian slams into him again, and yanks him back against him hard, making sure he’s already angling to find his prostate. He pounds into him, making Mickey fall apart. He understands, then, why Mickey would want it like this. Mickey isn’t the one who is pushing back on Ian. He is just staying there, supported with the belt, relaxing against the leather while Ian takes complete control. And it’s just a fast cascade of images like a flipbook in his Alpha brain. Mickey kissing the belt, Mickey asking for this, his hand against Mickey’s skin. He moans. 

“I feel good?” Mickey pants, words punching their way out. “You like fucking me like this?” 

Ian answers with a slap to his ass. “Oh god,” he says. “God yes. Thank you. Thank you. Fuck.” 

“All yours,” Mickey says, so quietly Ian barely catches it. “I’m all yours” 

“I’m all yours, too,” Ian says, and he’s back to kissing his back. He reaches underneath and grabs at his cock, pumps him up and down. “I’ll do anything for you, Mick. Anything.” 

Mickey is leaking everywhere, and Ian isn’t even sure where it’s all coming from. “Then let me come,” Mickey moans. “Ian, I wanna come.” 

Ian’s hands pull the belt apart, and then he pulls himself out of Mickey fast. When Mickey tries to push back toward him, Ian taps the leather against him. “Please. Breathe. I’ll make it so good for you, omega. But it’s not time yet.” He backs up, lets the belt loosen. “Turn over. Part your legs,” he says. “Wanna lick you. Just please, please let me.” 

Mickey lets him. He lets Ian push his thighs up, lets his tongue slide against him, kissing him, savoring him. Ian feels something by his hand, and he sees that Mickey is holding onto his belt, letting the leather slide against his chest, eyelids fluttering, mouth wide open. 

Ian eases his thighs down, but makes sure he gives one last swipe of his tongue before sliding his tongue over his balls, then dick, dipping down, taking him quickly into his throat before pulling back again. He looks up, and Mickey has tears in his eyes. 

“Hey hey hey,” Ian says. “What’s wrong?” 

Mickey shakes his head slowly. “I just never woulda told anyone I wanted this. I never thought I could tell anyone this.” 

Ian nods slowly. “Is this still want you want? Are you...is this okay?” 

Mickey pulls Ian down to meet his lips, mouth open, tongue in his mouth, showing no shyness about tasting himself. He bites Ian’s lip before pulling away. “I feel safe,” he says, eyes closed. “I feel safe with this. You inside me. I feel safe.” 

Ian kisses him, lets the belt just fall away, and enters him softly. They rock against each other, and before Mickey can ask, Ian is already reaching for his cock. 

“Are you gonna knot me?” Mickey’s eyes are closed.

“Yeah,” Ian says. “Yeah, I want to. You?” 

Mickey nods, not opening his eyes. “Put the belt on me. Anywhere.” 

Softly, so softly rocking. “Do you want me to get back behind you?” 

Mickey shakes his head. “This feels good,” he says. “I just wanna feel your belt, too. Put it anywhere. Just so I can feel it.” 

Ian is panting when he finds the belt and drags it slowly against Mickey’s chest, his nipples, bending down to suck at them when Mickey whines.  


“Around my wrists,” Mickey says, throwing his arms up against the pillow. “C’mon.” 

It’s so fast. Ian takes the belt and loops it around Mickey’s pale wrists. He doesn’t buckle it, just wraps it around, a simple but loose knot. 

“Yes,” Mickey breathes. “Fuck, just like that.” 

He feels himself start to swell at the base. 

Mickey moans. “There’s that knot. Ungh.” 

“Your _ass_ ,” Ian groans. “So tight, so perfect.” It’s growing fast, becoming harder to pull back. His hand continues to move, not missing a beat. 

Mickey’s face is dewy, his cheeks red, his mouth slack, eyes closed, concentrating, trying not to come, he’s trying not to come, trying to make Ian proud of his control. 

Ian growls, a deep hard growl, and Mickey’s eyes fly open. 

“Let me come,” Mickey pleads. 

Ian’s eyes are pulled so hard they almost hurt. “So fucking beautiful,” he says. 

“Let me come,” Mickey moans. 

And just like that, he presses one last, hard time, and he’s locked, he’s releasing, and Mickey is shaking with effort. 

“Come.” 

Mickey tries to bow his body up as he lets go, eyes bright, skin hot, making a sound Ian hasn’t heard before, before he begins to chant _thank you, thank you Alpha.”_ His come is everywhere, stomachs sticky, and Ian keeps moving, knows he can coax another from him, and he can, easily.

And Ian can, too. He grits his teeth as he releases again into Mickey. Not as much this time, but it’s still there, splashing inside him, making Mickey’s breath stutter. 

Their kiss is thick and passionate, but then it starts to change. Slightly slower, slower still, then stops. Ian reaches up, releases Mickey’s hands, rubs them gently. He kisses one, then the other. Ian slowly deflates, and pulls out of Mickey gently. Mickey still winces, but only for a second. His hands find Ian’s head and he pulls him to his lips, licking into his mouth. 

Ian turns him on his side and holds onto him tight, then loose, tracing his fingertips around Mickey’s back, watching Mickey’s eyelids flutter. 

“Rest,” Ian says quietly. He kisses Mickey’s forehead. “You were just through a lot. You were so perfect. Thank you, Mick. Thank you.” 

Mickey gives a slow smile mixed with a hum. “Felt good.” 

“I’m glad,” Ian whispers. His fingertips dance around his neck and then down to his chest. "Would you like some water? A beer? Something to eat or something?"

"I'm good," Mickey says with his eyes closed. "Good just lyin' here. 

Something is poking him in the back. He doesn’t want to let go of Mickey, but he kisses him softly, then reaches behind himself. The teeth on the belt, of course. He grins as he pulls it off the bed and lets in drop on the floor. 

“Hmm.” Mickey nuzzles into Ian’s chest, smiling. 

“You like that sound?” Ian says, smiling. 

Mickey nods. “Don’t tell anyone,” he says, huffing a laugh. 

Ian’s mouth drops open a little. “I won’t,” he says. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise, I–”

Mickey pushes at him playfully. “Kidding, asshole.” 

They laugh. 

It’s quiet for a while, and Mickey’s breathing is deep and slow. Ian thinks he’s sleeping for a minute, but then he speaks. “We shouldn’t be doin’ this right now.” 

“It’s okay,” Ian says soothingly. “You needed it. We needed it. And if made you feel more safe, that’s the most important thing.” 

Mickey shrugs one shoulder. “We should talk about that plan Adam brought over.” 

“It wasn’t out there,” Ian says. “Remember?” 

Mickey starts to sit up, reaches for his cigarettes, lights one on the candle still burning behind his bed. “Don’t need it,” he says, voice muffled with a cigarette. “If we get some paper and pen I can draw it. I remember it.” 

Ian takes a drag on the cigarette. “Wow.” There’s a feeling of pride that rises up. “That’s impressive.” 

Mickey takes the cigarette back, grinning. “Thanks.” He pushes Ian a little bit, and slides to the end of the bed, grabbing for his clothes, then stopping. He pats his hand around, feeling himself. “I’m a fucking mess. Gotta wash up. Find me some paper.” 

* 

“Text her again.” 

Mickey pushes Ian into the train car just as the doors begin to close. 

“I have like 10 times,” Ian says. “She’s not answering. I even tried to call when you were in the bathroom.” 

“Something’s up,” Mickey says. Ian can see him staring at someone at the end of the train car. It’s a man, an Alpha, Ian can tell that much. Mickey’s eyebrows knot. “Can I fucking help you with something?” 

Ian tries not to laugh, but when he looks more fully at the Alpha, the hairs on the back of his neck begin to stand up. He stares him down, finding that his hand feels further away on the pole than it just did. He grew, a little bit. The Alpha keeps staring at him. 

“The fuck you lookin’ at?” Mickey snaps. 

The Alpha looks away, breaks the eye contact from both of them. 

“Good,” Mickey says under his breath. He gives one more glance before shrugging and reaching for the paper in his pocket. 

Ian is still impressed with how quickly Mickey drew up the copy. It’s a smaller scale to fit on one piece of paper, but still. He watches Mickey’s eyes flick all over the paper, taking in all the details. 

“I’m still worried about Adam,” Ian says quietly. “I don’t know what to do. I mean, other than go to Elizabeth’s to check.” 

“We already doin’ that,” Mickey says, distracted by the paper. “Maybe when she looks at this it will make more sense. You swear you never saw any other doors before you got in that elevator?”

“No, I didn’t,” Ian says. “I mean...well, wait. Maybe? I don’t know. It was kind of intense when it was all going on.” He feels it again, the other Alpha’s eyes. The other Alpha’s eyes are not challenging, but Ian can feel his own eyes beginning to move. He clears his throat. “I think we should get off the train.” 

Mickey looks up from the paper, looks toward the Alpha, and leans a little closer to Ian, his omega body seeking protection. But he shakes his head. “Whatever,” he says. “It’s fine. Forget that guy. Just look at this. Try ‘an imagine yourself walking in up here,” he taps the paper, “and moving through all this tube, and then meeting Elizabeth here.” He taps the paper twice in the exact spot where Ian saw Elizabeth for the first time. “What did you do then? What did you see?” 

Ian closes his eyes, but can’t see anything in his mind’s eye. It’s almost clouded. “I can’t,” he says, almost desperate. “I can’t see anything. Nothing.” 

“Hey,” Mickey says, covering Ian’s fingers with his. “Let’s just drop it. Can tell you’re a little jumpy.” 

Ian opens his mouth to disagree, but then looks down to where their hands are touching. A glance at Mickey’s face. A glance to the Alpha. A glance, finally, to his feet. 

He breathes. 

“I want to get off the train,” Ian says. 

Mickey shakes his head. “Trust me on this. We will. Just hang on.” 

Ian nods his head slowly. “Okay,” he whispers. He rolls his shoulders back, moving his sore neck, his head. “But when we get to her stop, let’s hurry.” 

One stop. Two. The third can’t come soon enough for Ian, and he almost pushes Mickey out the door. He looks over his shoulder. Shit.

“Go go go go,” he says. “Mick, run!” 

It’s the other Alpha, taking the steps two at a time, catching up with them in easy strides. Mickey breaks out into a run, but he’s nowhere near as fast as Ian. Ian is about to scoop him up, run with him, when Mickey screeches to a halt. 

The other Alpha is on them in a heartbeat. He reaches for Mickey, and Ian’s hand swipes out, his fist connecting with the Alpha’s chin. 

“Stop!” The other Alpha rears back. “Stop!” 

There is a little blip in his eyesight, and then Ian tastes blood. He feels something crack in his hand, and then he blinks.

“Relax your eyes,” the other Alpha pants. “They are pulled too hard. You can’t see. Slow down. Relax. You have to relax.” 

“Ian,” Mickey says. “Relax. Listen to his voice. Something’s up.”

First there is a brown eye, a brown eye pulled, a little, with puffiness around it. Soreness. It confuses Ian for a minute, and then he can start seeing the rest of him. His dark skin, his sharp cheekbone. His perfectly trimmed beard, the curve of his lip, the red collar on his jacket, his broad shoulder. The other Alpha, standing in front of him. 

He doesn’t look like Ian’s punches did anything. He raises an eyebrow. “You finished? Ready to use your words?”

Ian hesitates, but nods. 

“Ian, I need you to listen to me,” the other Alpha says. “I’m not going to hurt you. I swear. I’m not challenging you, Ian.” 

“How the hell do you know my name? Who are you?” 

“You can call me Wolf,” the other Alpha says. “It’s not my name, but it’s closer to who and what I am.” 

”Okay then,” Ian says. “ _What_ are you?

“I’m someone who knows you, Ian. And you, Mickey. I know all about you two. And Elizabeth. And Phoebe. And Clara and Violet and all of it. I know you. I knew you before your Reveal.”

“Why should I believe that? What do you mean?” 

Wolf’s eyes are back to normal. “I watch you. All of you. That’s what I do. For the pack.” 

Ian freezes. Pack? “What did you just say?” 

Wolf steps closer. “You can’t smell me?” 

Ian’s mouth drops, and his nostrils flare. He leans forward before he even means to. He smells deeply. First there is nothing, just the cold, the street, the car exhaust. Then, a slow creeping, something deep and open. Almost sandalwood, almost skin, almost rain. Then, beneath it all, the something he feels with Elizabeth, with Phoebe. 

“Holy shit,” Ian breathes. “You’re pack.” 

He nods. “But I have a different role. I am not part of your circle as you know it. I’m just on the perimeter,” he says. “They call us Outliers. We are part of you, but separate. We wouldn’t nest with you. We don't do that. We are solitary. But we are still part of you, and want to stay nearby, but we hide. And if a situation arises, we can step in. That's why I'm here now. But I'm not staying long."

Ian searches with his eyes, looking over Wolf's shoulder. "Are there more of you? Outliers?" 

"I'm the only one in our pack," Wolf says. "But I’ve been part of you for a long time. Elizabeth didn't know. Maybe still doesn't. But I think she saw me, once, when you were all at Clara’s house. She probably didn’t mention it, but I think she was pretty agitated. Did she seem agitated?” 

“Uhh yeah,” Mickey says, almost sarcastic. “I’d say so.” 

Wolf nods. “She has a lot of weight on her shoulders,” he says kindly. “She’s been under an immense amount of pressure for a long time. And she’s been waiting for you, Ian. She thinks you have a pivotal role to play. She just doesn't understand exactly what it is yet. But she will soon. And so will you.” 

Ian can feel something wash over him. “You mean, like,” He tries to remember what he heard Adam and Elizabeth talking about it back in the ambulance. “Like, I’m part of some sort of...destiny? ” 

Wolf nods slowly. 

“Like what?” Mickey asks. 

“I can’t say,” he says. “It isn’t time.” 

Ian is breathing faster. Not in aggression. Not in confusion. In fear. “What do you mean it isn’t time?” 

“Shh,” Wolf says. “Stop.” He begins to slowly scan the scene, the street, the cars and people and liquor stores, check cashing, laundromat, diner. 

“What’s wrong,” Mickey says. 

“They're coming," Wolf says, looking over Ian's shoulder. 

"Who's coming?" Ian turns and looks up the street. He can almost see Elizabeth’s apartment building. But there’s something strange. There are a lot of people standing over there, crowding around, and others seem to be walking over there, too. 

“What are they doing there?” Ian swallows fast, feels the Alpha coursing through his limbs. “Why are all those people there? What happened?” 

“It’s why I followed you this closely,” Wolf says. “It’s why I followed you here, guided you here. It’s why I took Adam.” 

“Wait, back the fuck up,” Mickey says, stepping closer. “ _You’re_ the one who took Adam?”

He doesn’t nod. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t have to. 

Mickey is angrier than Ian would have thought. “What the fuck did you do with him? Do you have any idea what he went through to give us that…” 

“Shh!” Ian says. "Quieter." 

“The paper,” Mickey whispers. 

“He knew you’d take care of it,” Wolf says. "And he knew I’d take care of him. He went willingly, but we didn’t want to make it look like he did. Just in case The Institute questioned you. But we don’t have any more time with that. He’s safe. He wasn’t directly part of us. He wasn’t true pack. But he was as close as they come. We owe him that much. We owe him safety. They won’t find him.” 

Ian swallows the lump in his throat. “Tell him thank you. Tell him thank you for everything." 

No one speaks at first. Ian sees people eating in the diner. Coffee cups raised. The backs of heads. Normal life. A life he hardly feels part of, anymore. There is no Before before. 

Mickey surprises Ian by stepping closer. “Does Phoebe know who you are?” 

Wolf nods slowly. “She saw me once. She saw me when it happened,” he says. His voice is pinched at first. He clears his throat. "I haven't had the guts to face her since."

Ian steps closer, too. “When what happened?” 

Wolf ignores his question. “I was _right there_ ,” he clears his throat again.“I was right there, and I couldn’t stop it. Them.” 

“Who’s _them?_ ” 

Wolf doesn’t look back at them. “I mean, they were there. I could see them coming. I knew why they were there. And when it came down to it, when it was time for me to run in, I couldn’t. I just stood there. I let it happen. I just froze. I let it happen.” 

Ian shakes his head. He’s trying to link Wolf, but there isn’t anything there. Not even a block. “What are you talking about?” 

Wolf keeps shaking his head hard, staring at the ground. “And I saw them come out with them. First her, then her. I just _stood there!_ But she saw me. Phoebe. She saw me after they closed the door. She looked different, then. Not like you’re used to seeing her. She was...it was a different look on her face. I never want to see anybody look that way again.” 

Mickey looks at Ian. “Her omega,” he says quietly. “It’s that when she died? Wait. What happened to her?” 

“I was right there,” Wolf says again. “In the trees. And I grew. And my eyes pulled. And my teeth were long, my mouth wide, blood in my mouth and pounding in my head. But my feet wouldn’t work. I could have saved her. Both of them. Could have saved them. Stopped it.” 

Mickey reaches for Ian’s hand. “So what now? Why are we even talking right now?” 

Wolf gestures with his bruised chin behind them. The crowd. The mess. “Because I wanted to make sure you got here. Because they need you. Elizabeth and Clara need you to keep them safe."

“Safe from what? What are they doing?” 

Wolf doesn’t say anything at first, but then reaches for Ian's hand. Ian quickly links him. He sees trees, he feels like he's running, he feels like he can see himself, can see all of them, from a distance. The sound of snow. Wolf drops his hand. "And you need protection, too. Listen to what they tell you, Ian. They will take it from here. It's time for me to go." 

"Wait," Ian says. "Wait, I have more questions. Don't go." 

"It's time," Wolf says. He begins to back into the street, and the cars part around him, to let him pass. 

“How will I be able to find you?” Ian calls after him, hands shoved in his pockets. 

“You won’t,” Wolf calls back. “But I’ll be there.” 

They watch until Wolf begins to soften around the edges, and then there is something dissolving him. He's turning into something else. Something almost ghostly. 

They look at each other. Wide eyes. They can’t speak. They just stare at each other, and then stare into the street, the place where Wolf disappeared. 

"Let's go," Ian says. They walk, very slowly, toward Elizabeth’s apartment building. So many bodies, all in a clump. Ian can feel the disjointed and off-putting energy. He can count ten, wait, no, at least fifteen. He focuses his eyes hard. Fifteen. 

“Holy shit,” Mickey says. “Are you ready for this?”

He focuses harder. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. 

“Mickey,” he gasps. Twenty-two. Twenty-three.

“Get your Alpha up,” Mickey mumbles. “We’re gonna need it.”

The Alphas stare them down. Ian has never met them. At least, he doesn’t think so. He turns. Wait. He hasn’t met _most_ of them. There is Nic, the lesbian on the barstool at The Blackbird. 

“Nic,” he says. “I’m Ian, do you remember….” 

She nods. Her eyes are pulled. She rubs against the brick. 

“What’s going on?” Ian tries to look at the other Alphas. They are shifting around him, almost herding them along. 

“Move,” Ian says, voice low. 

They part, slowly, but swallow him back up again as he gets closer to the door. He holds Mickey close. He shakes the doorknob. Locked. He starts to fumble in his pocket for his keychain. He has a key. 

One of the Alphas jostles them, and Ian loses his footing. 

“Just break it,” Mickey says. 

Ian does. His shoulder smashes against the door, and it gives immediately. 

He is breathing hard when he shakes off his nerves in the entryway. 

“I broke everyone’s door,” Ian says when he comes back to himself. “I broke the main door. I just put a lot of people in danger. I–” 

“Quiet,” Mickey says. He pushes him toward the stairs. “We got bigger shit to worry about. You hear anything? Smell anything?” 

“No,” Ian says. “Why?” 

Mickey doesn’t answer. 

They walk upstairs slowly. Ian’s ears are perked up, but he doesn’t hear anything. When they reach Elizabeth’s floor he sees Mickey start to shudder, breathe harder. Mickey starts to stretch out, eyes closed. A small “ungh” leaves his lips. The same sound he makes when Ian enters him. 

“Wait,” Ian says. “Wait, wait, wait. What’s.” 

“We should go,” Mickey pants. “Leave. This is, _fuck_. This isn’t a good time.” 

Ian shakes his head and raises his fist to knock on Elizabeth’s door. 

He stops. Pauses, tries to link Elizabeth instead. It seems smoother than knocking. He can’t get a clear line to her. It’s a singular sound and a color. A hum, a deep hum, and just an expanse of pink. 

He knocks. 

There’s a pause. 

“Uh, its Ian,” he says, even though he knows she already knows who it is. “Can I–I need to talk to you. Sorry.” 

Mickey shakes his head. 

There is a long pause. He hears Elizabeth clear her throat. 

Ian tries to link, tries to figure out what’s happening, but he just sees disjointed images and a hears a little buzzing sound. Then he’s blocked. 

It’s still a few moments before the door opens. When it swings open, Ian can smell it better. 

Elizabeth is wearing pink sweatpants, too short in the legs, and a men’s black tank top. Obviously pulled on quickly. The tank is on backwards. She’s breathing heavily. Her hair is tangled. “What.” 

Ian turns to let Mickey into the apartment, but he’s already pushing past them. Ian follows his eyes. 

There she is, laying on her stomach in Elizabeth’s bed, She’s propped up by her elbows, one hand holding up her head, white sheets and blankets bunched up everywhere. For a moment Ian can’t figure out what she’s wearing. A scarf? His eyes get a little wider when she sits up. 

“I’m okay,” Clara says, voice breathy and content. She isn't wearing anything. Just a bit of sheet pulled up to (barely) cover her breasts. She touches her neck, smiling. Proud. 

Ian hears the door close behind him. He turns to see Elizabeth’s face, but she doesn't turn. Her eyes are fixed on Clara. “She isn't hurt,” Elizabeth says. Her voice is shaky, panting. “We have some time to make up for.”

Clara is covered with marks from Elizabeth’s mouth, deeply bruised on both sides of her neck and bits of her chest. The sheet slips a bit more, she almost drops it. Her breasts slope beautifully, a line of cleavage that Ian somehow didn't expect. She looks so soft. Smells good. He starts to breathe faster.

He shakes his head hard as if to clear the thought. How odd. More than odd. There is a little zing up his spine. He hears Elizabeth’s rumble. Ian's thoughts drop away. He glances over and Elizabeth catches his eye. A little shake of the head. _Mine._

Clara traces her fingers against her neck and gives Elizabeth a look. “We have a _lot_ of time to make up for.” Ian watches as she tilts her bruised neck to the side before letting her head roll back. Presentation. Her eyes blink slowly. 

Elizabeth’s breath is fast. Ian sneaks a look. Eyes blown black, mouth agape.

“Hey,” Ian says, reaching for Elizabeth’s arm. She doesn't turn. Her only response is yanking her arm away from him. “Look, we’ll get out in a minute. I need to tell you some really important stuff.”

She isn’t listening. Not when Clara is right there, mouth curling up at the corner, blinking her eyes again, tracing her neck with the tips of her fingers. “I think you should do it again. Just to make sure.” She grins. “I wanna make sure people can see that I'm yours. Show them I belong to you.” 

Elizabeth gets closer, and Ian watches as she crawls up the bed like a cat, stretching out, limbs long. “And I belong to you,” Elizabeth says quietly. She leans into Clara’s presented neck and slowly nuzzles against it. Clara’s hand finds the back of her head. So soft. So gentle.

“Gallagher,” Mickey says, voice stronger than before. “This aint gonna work.” He pulls on his hand, but Ian stands there. 

“Hey,” he says. “Um.” 

“Get it,” Clara whispers. “Get the strap, baby. Want your knot.”

Elizabeth says something so low Ian can’t hear it, but she immediately pushes her back into the pillows. Clara's hand pulls at the back of Elizabeth’s tank, yanking it off swiftly. A rumble rises from the bed as Elizabeth’s hand begins to bat around on the cluttered nightstand, looking for the drawer handle. 

“Gallagher,” Mickey snaps. He yanks on his shirt and pulls him into Elizabeth’s little kitchen. “It’s a _heat,_ dumbass,” he says. “She’s not gonna listen to you.” 

Ian’s eyes go wide. “What?” 

”We’ll get outta here as soon as I do this,” he says. He doesn’t explain. He quickly starts opening cupboards until he finds a plate and peanut butter. There’s bread on the counter. He opens a drawer and finds a knife. He shakes his head. “She’s this tough-ass Alpha and she can’t do this one fucking thing?”

Ian’s brain is still stuck. “What do you mean a heat?” Ian hisses. “Isn’t that too fast? Too soon? I mean they’ve only been back together for, like–”

“Don’t matter,” he says. “They got a history. Their Alpha and omega sped things up. Just how it is sometimes.” Mickey silently starts spreading peanut butter on the bread until he’s stacked four sandwiches on a plate. He gestures into the other room with the knife. 

“What? I can’t just go in there and eat a sandwich! What the hell?” 

“Not for you,” Mickey says. He licks a bit of peanut butter off his finger. “It’s for,” he gestures toward the other room.

There’s a high little noise mixed with a deeper noise. A shaky moan. 

“That,” Mickey says.

“We’re still here,” Ian calls. “Sorry, we’re just–”

“C’mon,” Mickey says. He gives Ian the plate. He turns to put the knife in the sink. He chuckles. “Lookit here,” he says. There are four gallons of water on the counter next to a crumpled receipt. He picks the receipt up and shakes his head. “This is from last night.” 

“What's that mean? Her heat started last night?”

Mickey nods. “Clara probably felt in comin’ on. She woulda stayed here while Elizabeth went out. But Elizabeth wouldn't go too far. Her Alpha would make sure of that.“ He squints at the receipt again. “Yeah, this is just down the block. Clara must have been ready when she got home. Or maybe just after, I guess, if she got this far in the kitchen. Don't matter. End’s the same.” He picks one gallon up and finds two glasses. “C’mon,” he says. 

Ian doesn’t plan to look when they turn into the room, but he does without even thinking. Clara is on top, shirt off, her back stained with more bruises, down and down and down and down in a line. She is rocking back and forth, hips barely covered with the blanket. Suddenly, Elizabeth’s hands slip against her waist, holding her down tighter. Clara’s head falls back and Ian can see a hard shudder race through her.

Elizabeth's voice holds a gentle rumble. “That's it, omega. So beautiful when you wanna come. Let it happen. Let go for me. Show me how I good I feel.”

Clara shakes harder. “Love you inside me.”

“Oh no,” Ian says. “This is-”

He tries to turn back into the kitchen, but Mickey gives him a shove. “What? We’re gonna stay in that kitchen all day?” He gestures to the nightstand. “Put the plate over there.” 

Ian doesn't move. He cringes.

Clara’s voice is high. “My _Alpha_.”

Elizabeth growls. “Look so perfect. So gorgeous. God, you're so _wet._ ” She grips her tighter with a moan. “My clit’s so hard. Never gonna retract.”

Clara groans. “Don't,” she pants, shaking her head. “Don't retract. Please.”

“Why? Want to take this off after I make you come? Wanna put your mouth on me? 

Clara shakes hard again. “Yeah. Yeah. Gonna show you how much I love it. Need it..”

Elizabeth moans. “Want you to look up at me while you do it. Oh god. Love to watch you. You’re so perfect, omega.” 

“Now, baby.” She whines. “‘Make me come now.”

“Mick,” he whispers loudly. Mickey is pushing him further into the room. “They’re still–” 

“Then you better do it fuckin’ quick,” he spits. He gives him another shove. Ian tries to creep closer without being too disruptive. Without looking anywhere more than he needs to. 

It's very difficult.

There's a loud, hungry growl, and Elizabeth is moving, quickly switching positions, getting on top, thrusting hard. Clara fists Elizabeth's short hair, both gasping. Clara’s voice rises fast and faster and then releases hard into a long moan as she comes, eyes flying wide open. She grabs at Elizabeth’s back, whining “more, don't stop.”

Shit. Ian tries to slide the plate on the table but there’s too much stuff on it. He can smell their skin, see Elizabeth's small, almost sharp breasts, nipples pink and straining. See the soft slope of Clara’s body pulling and pushing and breaking apart as Elizabeth continues to thrust into her. Ian fumbles, apologizing, looking at the floor. 

“Oh Jesus Christ,” Mickey says, crossing over. He sets the gallon of water on the floor with the glasses. He shoves all the stuff off the table with his forearm and sets the plate down.

They all freeze at the crash. No one moves. Not at first. But then Clara turns her head, eyes fighting to focus. Elizabeth’s eyes flash black at them as she leans down to cover Clara’s body with hers. There's a deep growl. Possessive. Protective. She growls again. Teeth.

“Eh.” Mickey snaps his fingers hard in Elizabeth’s face. Her Alpha’s face. “Will you fucking relax?” Elizabeth’s face changes. Confused. Awake in a different way. “We’re trying to help. Didn't you forget something? Feed her? Get her water? You didn’t set your shit up right.” 

Elizabeth blinks, and it’s like the spell has lifted. She stares at both of them like she had no idea they were there. Maybe she didn't. She looks at the table, the water on the floor. “I.” She doesn’t say anything else. 

He shifts his gaze quickly to Clara. “An’ hey. You. _You’re_ getting tired. You gotta take a break.” Clara shakes her head. No. Mickey’s arms flop up and then down. “Fine. Die of thirst for all I care.” 

Elizabeth starts to reach for the water, but Clara's hand fists into her hair and pulls her back. “No,” Clara says. Her hands quickly slide under the blanket and start to pull at Elizabeth somewhere. A buckle. It’s a buckle. Ian can hear it. 

“Let’s go,” Mickey says. “Seen enough tits. Jesus.” 

“Off off off,” Clara chants. There’s a rustle beneath the blanket, and Clara suddenly turns them over and slams her hands on Elizabeth’s wrists, holding them tight. Elizabeth groans with a growl inside it. 

They reach for the doorknob at the same time, both pulling hard, but they finally manage to get into the hall. They lean against the wall. 

Mickey wipes his face with his hands. “Now what.” 

Ian’s eyes flick back to Elizabeth’s door. “I feel like she needs to know. About Adam. Wolf. Your paper. All of it.” 

Mickey nods. “She will,” he says. “But not right now. There’s no way. You saw her. Them. They probably don’t even remember that we were just in there.” 

“But maybe if I write something down, slip it under the door?” 

“Look,” Mickey says, crossing his arms. “They’re gonna bond, okay?” 

Ian’s mouth opens. “How do you know?” 

Mickey pats his pocket, looking for his cigarettes, but then lets his hand drop. “I just know.” He keeps looking at the ground. “It’s time. For them.” 

Ian knows, then, what Mickey is thinking. He can feel it. A sadness. “We will,” he says. “Mickey, we’ll bond. I promise we will.” 

Mickey bites his lip. “When, though? If they can do it now, why can’t we?” 

Ian reaches out for Mickey’s arm, but Mickey pulls back. 

“It’s okay to be jealous,” Ian says quietly. “I am." 

"Really?" His voice is small, his eyes soft and open.

"I'm really jealous. I would give anything to be in their shoes. I would love to go through a heat with you. You'd teach me everything you'd want, and we would have plenty of time. We'd be in bed so long we'd forget what the outside world is like." He coughs back a growl. He's hard. "And I could finally claim you. I could bite you and heal you up and we'd be bonded. You'd be mine, and I"d be yours. Officially. Forever. And that's all I want. I want us. Forever." 

"Forever," Mickey says, almost all breath, stepping closer, running his hand up Ian's stomach, chest, neck. 

Ian kisses him gently. "I know it’s a lot. But I promise you. I _promise_ you we will. There is nothing I’d like more than to do it now. But we just have to be patient. Once we figure all this out, once we can get somewhere where we don’t look over our shoulder every five minutes, we will.” 

There’s a bang and a crash inside Elizabeth’s apartment. Ian jumps. He tries to link. Nothing. 

“Come on,” Mickey says quietly. “We should get going.” He pulls on Ian’s sleeve. 

“But that noise,” Ian says. 

“It’s fine,” Mickey says, waving it off. "They just broke the bed. No big deal.” 

Ian stifles a laugh. “How do you know?” 

“Just do,” he says. “I can kind of see that stuff too. Or sense it, or whatever.” He pushes off the wall and starts walking. 

“Really?” Ian stays still. “I mean, how?” 

“C’mon,” Mickey says. “Let’s go.” 

As they reach the second flight of stairs, Ian can start to sense the Alphas outside. 

“Why are there Alphas out there by the door?” Ian asks. “Do you know?” 

“They can tell if an Alpha nearby is going to bond with an omega. It’s a layer of protection. They could sense you were pack. That’s the only reason they let us through instead of trying to fight us.” 

“Let’s go out the back door,” Ian says. 

Mickey shakes his head. “Don’t matter. There’ll be some out there, too. Might as well go out the way we came in.” 

Ian can sense them the closer they get to the door. He knows he’s grown taller and wider. The headspace in the doorway isn’t as high. He feels like he has to bow his head to get out the door. 

“Back,” he says the minute he steps outside. He can hear the rumble in his voice, feel his pulled eyes. He expects to have to fight his way through, but they all part to let him in. But he only makes it halfway before he sees more and more Alphas walking down the street, right toward them. He can’t even count them anymore. 

He finds Nic’s face. Her eyes are pulled. Not in aggression towards him. She is showing her strength. 

“What’s going on, Nic?” 

Mickey touches his arm. “Holy shit, where are they all coming from?” 

Nic stares at Ian, and Ian can almost feel her trying to link. He sets up a block immediately. 

“Just tell me,” Ian says. “What’s this about?” 

“We knew you’d come,” she says. “And you need protection.” 

“Why? I’m fine. I don’t need protecting.” 

The Alphas press in a little closer. “You do,” Nic says. She gestures around at the growing crowd. "And it's time we stepped in to help you. It's the only way we'll get through this. The more of us there are, the safer you are. The Institute is strong. But if we work together, we'll be stronger. From now on, we're the wall. We will be your wall, Ian. We will keep you all safe as long as we can. It's our role to play in this whole thing. The Resistance. This whole story. We know we might not all make it in the end. There will be collateral damage. We've accepted it - all of us making the wall. But we have to try." 

“I d-don't understand,” Ian stammers. 

Nic looks around at the other Alphas' quiet faces. “Elizabeth was right. Back there in the ambulance.” 

“How do you know about the ambulance?” 

"We believe the prophecy is true," she says. "The Seers told us it was. For years, they have insisted it is true. But it was hard to picture what that would be like. Things had changed so much. It seemed impossible. But it isn't impossible. And now we know they were right all along." 

"I don't understand," Ian says again. 

The Alphas tighten in again. Too many to count.

“You’re the one, Ian,” she says. “The Chosen. You're going to save us all.”


End file.
